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skrltwtch · 3 years

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Graveyard Shift

Prompt: I know the sign says, "No shoes, no shirt, no service", but I just had the WEIRDEST night and your shop is the only building with lights on this early, and I'm really, really hoping you have some spare clothes behind the counter. Help? (Source in master list)

Word count: 4,255 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, smut, supernatural

Warnings: Smut

References: 1 Inglourious Basterds

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Graveyard shift is the fucking best — and the fucking worst.

For one, the shop is able to achieve that fine balance between having enough customers to justify its opening hours and keep me on its payroll, and having enough customers to not make me regret my choice of employment while I attempt to sort out my life. The silence that falls over the shop at two o’clock — without fail every night, like the general public know they have better places to be at two o’clock than a corner shop — grants it the perfect atmosphere for self-introspection and self-improvement. Have I learnt anything useful? Let’s … not talk about that.

Now, what’s the downside to this job, you ask? The customers, of course. There are fewer of them in the dead of the night, but God, the ones that do come in … Being situated on one of London’s busiest corners means a colourful clientele at all times of the day. Drunkards and yobs make up a sizeable number of the demographic that contribute to the shop’s cash drawer while I’m on duty. It’s both sickening and fascinating to deal with them. In my nine months of working here, I’ve seen it all — or I thought I have, until my attention is drawn to the naked man at the door.

It’s less than half an hour after sunrise. He doesn’t look like he’s knocked back a drink too many. (Can coffee make me see things I’m not supposed to be seeing at this hour?) He looks to be of sound mind, his franticness to be let inside aside. He’s handsome: his brown waves, wiry physique, and elegant features lend him a startling resemblance to an ancient Greek sculpture. Strangely, there is an abundance of scars all over his body, and not in a manner that’d signal self-harm. They look more consistent with animal scratches. I’m speaking from experience here: I have a cat, though it’s nigh impossible a cat did this to him.

Nonetheless, this ranks in the lower half of the top ten weirdest shit I’ve seen while on the clock.

‘Hello? Hello!’ That ought to be what he’s saying; I don’t proclaim myself to be an expert at lip reading. It’s encouraging that he’s aware of the sign preventing his entry and doesn’t think he’s above it, at least.

I shake my head at him. Rules are rules, mate. They apply even to hot, naked men.

‘Come on! Please?’ — I think.

‘Sorry!’ I shout, and I point at the camera above me. Colin, my manager, is a cool bloke. It’s about as likely that I’d lose my job for letting Mr Naked and Afraid grace the inside of the shop with his presence and providing him with service as it is that Mr Naked and Afraid is on something that isn’t obvious to my innocent eyes. Why tempt fate? There are other corner shops with less draconian policies down the street. I turn away and continue looking at my phone to spare us both our blushes. It is nippy outside …

Fuck it.

I motion for him to come in. I can explain this to Colin, should he decide to review this morning’s security footage on a whim. He’s a Cool Bloke™.

‘Thank you,’ says Mr Naked and Afraid. Fuck, the shop lighting is doing him more favours than he needs. ‘You won’t get in any trouble for this?’

‘Nah. I might get chewed out1 for this, but that’ll be the worst of it.’

‘Sorry. But thank you. Thank you. I’m George.’

Good. Mr Naked and Afraid is becoming a mouthful.

‘I’m Eva. How can I help, George?’

‘Do you have any spare clothes?’

‘It’s just me here, mate.’

‘I know. Can’t hurt to ask.’

Can I say, ‘You have balls’? Is that appropriate at a time like this? I exhale audibly. ‘Give me a second.’ I retreat into the staffroom behind the counter. Colin deserves a better staffroom than a lad hangout. I’ll clean up when there isn’t a naked man waiting on me outside — or not. I’m not their helper. I sort through the coat rack for something suitable. Andrew is the closest to George in stature, I think. Operating on that approximation, I grab Andrew’s jacket and trousers. I don’t want to have to think too hard about what my co-workers look like underneath their clothes. Besides, Andrew’s clothes have been here for ages. He won’t miss them.

‘Try these,’ I say.

‘Thank you. I’ll clean and return them, I promise.’ He reaches over the counter for the clothes.

‘Not so fast. Give me the craziest reason you’re butt naked, and if I like it, you get the clothes.’

‘Really?’

‘I have to tell my manager something. Might as well be something weird so I don’t get chewed out too hard.’

‘Fine.’ He puts his hands on his hips and looks around the shop — in search of inspiration, perhaps. I’d love to hear what he comes up with. He looks like someone with a good sense of humour. If we’d met elsewhere, I’d have thought about asking for his number and then chickening out at the last minute, because women like me don’t get anywhere with men like him. I keep a lookout on the entrance for any customers or co-workers, mostly because I don’t want to share this moment with anyone else.

‘Clock’s ticking, George.’

‘You didn’t say there’s a time limit.’

‘I’m not the one with my arse out in public.’

‘Alright. I’m a werewolf. I must’ve messed something up, because I got out of my flat last night and woke up in Trafalgar Square. I live in Hampstead. See these scars? It’s all me.’

I stare at him. He’s staring back at me, expecting a response. He looks serious. I — I can’t. I burst out laughing. Of all the things I thought I’d hear, that isn’t one of them.

‘That’s one I haven’t heard before. I love it.’

‘Yeah? Can I then —’

‘Not before you answer one more question, wolf boy.’ I mean that nickname with utmost sincerity.

‘Seriously …?’ Red blotches his cheeks. ‘Okay, okay.’

‘Were you born a werewolf or were you bitten?’

‘How is that relevant?’

‘Humour me.’

He rakes his hair with his fingers, and holds his inhalation and blink long enough for it to mean ‘I should’ve gone to the next corner shop’. Little does he know that his exasperation is making him look more attractive. I’ll treasure this moment forever. ‘Born. You don’t see any bite marks, do you?’

‘Touché. Here.’ I pass him the clothes.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’

‘No, thank you for the laugh,’ I say, looking away from him as he tries Andrew’s trousers on for size. Andrew’s fashion sense is being wasted on us corner shop plebeians. ‘I love horror and supernatural shit. That was perfect.’

‘Cool.’ For fuck’s sake, he can also pull off the loud, brash prints Andrew favours? This is unfair. ‘I’ll pop these in the washer when I get home, and I’ll return them to you …’

‘I’m working tonight. I’ll be here at ten.’ Technically, I start work at midnight. Andrew’s scheduled for the evening shift today, and I’d love to see his face when George returns with his clothes. I can’t remember how long these specific items have been in the staffroom. Plus, like, ten o’clock is an acceptable time to meet someone who lives in Hampstead and probably has standard working hours, isn’t it? ‘If that’s not too late for you.’

‘That’s fine. Thanks again, Eva.’ He’s said the T word so many times, it’s starting to sound weird to my ears. Semantic satiation — that’s what the phenomenon is called. I learnt this from the 3,722nd post I read on Reddit some nights ago.

‘You’re welcome, wolf boy. See you tonight.’

He grins. ‘See you.’

Just as he turns to leave, I swear, I swear on my copy of The Killing Joke with a frayed spine because I put it in the same bag as my water tumbler with a loose cap, I see a flash of fangs.

✦✧✦✧

‘You’re here early,’ says Andrew.

‘It’s midnight somewhere in the world.’ I don’t join him behind the counter. I’m scheduled to start work at midnight, and that is exactly what I’ll do. Overtime means nothing to me. (I say that like it’s applicable in this instance.) ‘Did a guy come in to look for me?’

‘Nope. Hey, do you know what happened to my trousers and jacket? First one’s floral; second one’s mustard.’ Doesn’t it just sound like a ghastly combination? Andrew can pull it off. So can George — both items at the same time. I’ve only seen Andrew in one or the other.

‘Funny story, that.’

‘Share.’

‘Okay, picture this: It’s fuck o’clock in the wee hours of the morning. Sun’s coming up. I’m on my second tumbler of coffee and running out of things to keep myself entertained. Suddenly, a naked bloke is asking to be let in; he’s begging. He doesn’t look drunk or high. I let him in because I’m a bleeding heart at heart. He asks me for spare clothes. Thank God you treat this place like your second closet. I ask him to hit me with the craziest reason he’s naked to help me decide if I should help him. He says he’s a werewolf.’ I am fighting to hold in my laughter. ‘And he says it with the straightest face you can imagine.’

‘Eva, this bloke was hot, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but —’

‘You’d have given him the clothes no matter what he said.’

‘I didn’t tell you this story for you to call me out like that.’

‘You’re welcome. Does Colin know you breached one of the shop’s sacred creeds?’

‘Does he have to know?’

‘No comment. It’s not my arse on the line.’

‘Colin won’t do me dirty like that. I did a good deed.’

‘… No comment. Am I going to get my stuff back?’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘Bollocks, I thought it’s because you like my company.’

‘Why not both?’

The bell above the door jangles, cutting our conversation short. It’s none other than the man of the hour himself. Never have I been this ecstatic to see someone enter the shop. He has no business filling out his grey shirt as well as he is.

‘George! Hi!’ I drown out Andrew’s snicker. Can’t I be excited about speaking with an attractive, charming man who isn’t drunk or in need of goods and services a corner shop can provide in the shop at this time of night? I might also never see him again after this, so as far as I’m concerned, I deserve every second of this.

‘Hello, Eva,’ says George. ‘Got the clothes cleaned like I said I would.’ He shows me the paper bag in his hand. McDonald’s. I can hear Andrew’s heart giving out. ‘Thank you again.’

I take the bag from him and place it on the counter, the golden arches staring Andrew in the face. ‘You’re welcome. You should thank him, too.’ I jerk my thumb at my near-apoplectic co-worker. ‘This is Andrew. The clothes are his.’

‘Thank you,’ George says to the other man, who responds with a tight-lipped nod, still in the midst of computing what he did in a past life to deserve having his clothes returned to him in a McDonald’s paper bag. ‘I followed the instructions on the labels as best I could. If I ruined something, I’d be happy to pay you back for it.’

‘Thanks, mate.’ Andrew takes the clothes out of the bag and gives them a quick once-over. ‘Looks good. You can have the bag back.’ He pushes it toward George with his finger.

‘Okay …’ George takes the bag, flattens and folds it into a neat square, and holds it under his arm. ‘Eva, I can’t — I can’t thank you enough for this morning. Last night was … weird.’ He swallowed.

‘Yeah, sure …’ I wink at him. ‘… wolf boy.’

‘Are you working now?’

‘No, but I will be in’ — I consult my watch — ‘an hour and a half’s time. I came in early because I know I don’t have the same concept of day and night as most people.’

‘Graveyard shift: fun as shit’ is Andrew’s sterling contribution to this part of the conversation. I like that, actually.

‘You didn’t have to — I’m more of a night owl,’ says George. Is that because he has a closer affinity to the night because of what he is? I convince myself it is. ‘Do you want to go get some coffee nearby? It’s the least I can do. I hope I didn’t get you in trouble.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I say. I should talk to Colin about this soon. ‘Sure, I’d love some coffee. Be a dear and watch the shop for me, will you, Andrew?’

✦✧✦✧

George leads me into his flat. Our bellies are full from dinner. I love and hate eating with him sometimes. I love his company, obviously; I hate that he can put away so much without any of it showing on him. Earlier, he had pork chops, lamb meatball stew, and a fudge brownie with ice cream. I get that he needs all that protein to maintain his figure, and I’d love and support him all the same if he were, but he’s not an Olympics athlete like Michael Phelps. Nonetheless, all that food’s imbued him with oodles of energy, the kind that’s seen us seek to end the night on a more gratifying note at someone’s place. (Mine’s out of the question tonight because my flatmate’s working toward the same goal with her latest squeeze.)

The farthest we make it before the urge to eat each other’s faces overpowers us is the sofa. I’m on top of him, just showering him with gentle kisses on his lips, and sometimes his cheeks and nose. I’m content with savouring his taste for now. His breathing is heavy. He’s warm to the touch. His kisses are more insistent. I yield to his desperate, almost plaintive moans and allow our tongues the pleasure of getting to know each other better. His hand is feverishly fondling my thigh and hip; the latter has developed a mind of its own, grinding up against him. Deciding our mouths couldn’t have all the fun, I move on to his neck, which he kindly bares for me. His throat is thrumming with — growls?

I look up at him and say, ‘Do you hear that?’

‘Hm?’ His eyelids flutter open. I gasp.

Staring back at me are yellow eyes, brilliant and wild.

Oh, my God.

‘George — your —’

‘Why?’ He puts his hand to his mouth. ‘Shit.’ I get off him. I see the fangs I thought I saw the first time we met. ‘What’s today’s date?’

‘It’s the eighth.’

‘Fuck!’ The force with which he cursed propels him out of his seat. ‘You have to go. I’m sorry,’ he says, taking off his shirt. His chest sheens with sweat. ‘I forgot.’

I don’t need to ask him what it is he forgot: I know the answer on a primeval level. I know I should leave. I stand transfixed by what’s happening before me. His flesh twists and ripples. The growls get louder. The proportions of the hand on his chest — hairier than I’ve ever known it to be — are all wrong. Poking — pushing out from underneath his fingernails are claws. He turns away from me. The sight of protruding knobs of bone under the skin along his spine causes chills to run down mine. My poor George. My poor wolf boy.

‘I’ll go,’ I say, as much as I want to stay with him. ‘Will you be okay?’ I shake my head. Stupid question. He’s in agony.

‘I’ll be fine.’ There is greater conviction in the violent gurgle that follows than his words. ‘Now go. Please.’ His back arches and expands with muscle. He cries out in pain.

I do as he says. I hear the locks rattle and turn behind me. Though his strained growls and yips are horrible to hear, I stick around outside his door. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I don’t quite feel afraid either of what I saw in there or of what I now know. Instead, I feel … I press my legs together and bite my lip. Not the time. After what feels like an eternity of guttural noises that have no right coming from a human throat, a howl, long, almost melodious, pierces the air. It’s almost … reassuring. So much about him makes sense now.

I take my phone from my bag, and I send him the following: ’Text me when you see this. Love you.’

✦✧✦✧

I shift on my feet as I wait for George to answer the door. I’m worried about him. Does he not want to see me anymore after last night? No, it’s an insult to the both of us for me to think that he thinks I’d be narrow-minded enough to stop wanting to be with him because of what he is. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. The food I brought for him is getting cold. Can he smell it from inside his flat? I press the doorbell again. I wish he had a neighbour to tell me what I can do in times like this.

The door opens. He looks a mess: he’s in boxers, and his hair is sticking out every which way. His eyes go wide. The memory of his yellow eyes resurfaces. I feel a little weak in my knees.

‘Good morning, love. I came to see if everything is okay,’ I say, ‘and I brought breakfast.’ I show him the paper bag. The food inside still smells good.

‘I thought —’ He doesn’t need to complete his sentence for me to know what he means. It’s written plainly in the furrow of his brow, the sadness in his eyes. Damn it. I didn’t want to be proven right about that.

‘Of course not. You didn’t see my message?’

‘I haven’t checked my messages. Sorry.’

‘Oh.’

‘Please, come in. Are you off work today?’

I nod.

His flat, too, is in disarray. It looks just as if an animal went wild in here. Pillows and books are all over the floor; some of the former have been ripped apart. Sunlight shines through the gaping holes in the curtains. Nothing’s broken, at least. George’s head hangs low. ‘I haven’t had the time to clean up … nor was I expecting visitors. I called in sick to work and went back to sleep. I forget what happens when I don’t take my meds before I transform.’

‘Let me guess — the last time that happened was a year ago?’

‘Yeah, probably. I don’t know. That was — that was different. I guess I was too excited about our date that I forgot what yesterday was.’

I walk him to the sofa, and we sit down. The food is left to sit out on the coffee table. ‘It’s okay,’ I say, stroking his arm lovingly. ‘I wasn’t … I’m not freaked out or anything. I love horror and supernatural shit after all.’ I chuckle nervously, more so because I hate my tendency to resort to awful humour in an attempt to defuse tense situations. ‘So, um … I owe you an apology for laughing at you when you first told me.’

‘Don’t. I could’ve said something else. I didn’t. I wanted the clothes fast, and after the night I’d had, that was the most out-there thing I could think of in a snap.’

‘Yeah, then I made it into a thing between us! I call you “wolf boy”! You never asked me to stop! And I told everyone how we met! Everyone knows you’re a werewolf!’ I gasp. So. Many. Exclamation. Marks.

‘This is our thing. Only you know for certain. I feel like I can breathe now.’

I lay my head on his chest. ‘You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to hide.’

‘That first sentence sounds like something I’m supposed to say.’

‘So, George … about last night … was that because you were about to — or …’

His words come out almost in a snarl: ‘I wanted you. I want you.’ His lips are centimetres away from my neck. His breath is hot on my skin.

‘Are we like … mates now, then?’ I giggle as I draw an indiscriminate shape on his chest with my finger. I may or may not have spent a considerable amount of time last night reading up on wolf behaviour. The thought of what lies in store for me is a little exhilarating, an observation I had a mild developmental crisis over when I felt that first pang of passion from applying what I read to our relationship.

‘Yes.’

He licks my neck. My core tingles with excitement at the ramifications of his declaration — for the record, I meant it as a light-hearted question — and at what’s about to come next, based on my research. Then he pushes me down onto my back, and I see his eyes, still blue, flicker with the same intensity as last night. He hikes up my dress and gets straight to nuzzling my mound. He laps his tongue over my underwear and inner thighs, the strokes long, soft. I hum impatiently. My underwear is getting soaked. He slides it off my pelvis, and he promptly buries his face in my folds. Fingers come into the picture soon after. I writhe in his grasp, desiring release.

And Lord, does it come.

I don’t get to wait for my legs to stop quivering, as he rises from between them and says, ‘On all fours, love’, his voice a lusty rasp. I scramble to my hands and knees. He’s never asked for this before. I’m liking this greater sense of freedom he now has around me. How much had he been holding back? I spread myself for him. He pushes his cock up against my slit. I let out a small, startled ‘Oh’ when he enters me. I feel pinpricks where his fingertips are. Each thrust is deep and brutal. It hurts a little, but it hurts so good. I press the side of my face into the couch and close my eyes. Stars crash into each other in the blackness behind my eyelids.

Though he’s the werewolf here, I’m the one whimpering and moaning like an animal, too, while he huffs and growls with each movement. The sounds encourage him. ‘Please, don’t stop, don’t stop …’ I breathe. My walls convulse around his girth and fill up with an unbearable heat and wetness. Come drips out of me and trickles down my thighs. Then his thrusts become shallower and rough, his fingertips threaten to leave bruises on my skin, and he empties himself inside me. He lets out a strangled howl; my lip almost bleeds from how hard I’m biting down.

I feel so empty, almost a little sad, when he pulls out. I settle into a lounging position on the sofa. He wedges himself behind me. I gently fondle his business, still hard. He resumes licking my neck, sometimes rubbing his face on my skin.

‘I’m sorry if that was … weird. It’s the first time I fucked like that — and the first time I fucked after the full moon.’

I turn around and kiss him. ‘You were amazing.’ His ears turn pink. ‘Am I your first girlfriend who knows?’

‘Yes. About being mates …’ He pulls me closer to him. ‘I can do something about that. If you want. No pressure. It’s a huge decision.’

I won’t lie and say I didn’t consider the idea at least once last night. The dream I had about transforming and running alongside him on all fours can attest to that. But I tell him, ‘I need to think about it first.’ I don’t want him to think I’m rushing headlong into something I have little to no knowledge about. (Tabbing back and forth between pages about wolf behaviour for at least two hours doesn’t make me an expert. I’m not even sure if it’s relevant.) I also wasn’t expecting this question to come up so soon, considering he thought I’d leave him. I sweep my thumb across his lips, then his nose. ‘Maybe if I see you in your wolf form first …’

‘Fair enough. Promise me you’ll still love me the same after you’ve seen him. He’s more fun than I am, even when hopped up on industrial-strength bear tranquiliser.’

‘It’s going to take a lot to top what I’ve seen in the last year — and the last hour.’

He chuckles. ‘I’m in trouble.’

I spend the day at his place. (What? I’m taking a mental health day, and being with my boyfriend does wonders for my mood.) We fuck several more times, unable to get enough of each other; we’re like lovesick puppies. He lets shades of his true self slip through on occasion. He assures me it’s not because of the full moon. I assure him I know. Until today, I didn’t think it’d been possible for him to become more alluring. I give him my answer to his offer before sunset, which he happily accepts. At the end of the day, I lie in my wolf boy’s arms, waxing gratitude for the graveyard shift at the corner shop a year ago.

#exophilia #terato #werewolf #monster love #monster romance #mine

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 30

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, fluff

; Warnings: Discussions of sex, questions of consent (no rape, don’t worry), body issues, body weight issues, self-esteem problems, self-confidence issues, brief mention of self-harm thoughts, mentions of bullying

; Word Count: 4.2k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: This chapter is one pretty close to me and might be tough for anyone else who’s also overweight or has been overweight during those tough times in school! Don’t worry about the MC, she’s okay. There’s no rape, the consent thing is briefly mentioned as a question. Please reblog this if you enjoyed so others can read, leave me comments or asks so I can know what you think :) only 10 more chapters left...

; Flower Masterpost

Giggling quietly to yourself, you scroll through the pictures on your phone carefully. It takes you forever to finally move onto the next one as you feel the need to carefully scan over each one in depth to catch all the little things. There’s so much to find in each picture and you spend as long as you can looking them over in amusement, grinning at the odd fashion choices.

“What are you laughing at?” Hoseok asks, coming over from the kitchen with a fresh glass of water for you and a cup of peppermint tea for himself. He’d only been home from work for about ten minutes while you’d been home for over half an hour now. Taking a sip from your glass, you smirk at him slightly as he sits next to you with a deep sigh.

Tiredness is etched into his face today, the dark circles under his eyes a little deeper than usual. He’d been struggling to sleep lately for some reason, waking up repeatedly apparently. Reaching over, you gently cup his cheek and stroke his skin softly, enjoying the welcome smile he gives before you turn your phone around to let him see.

“Interesting hair. How many jars of hair gel did you go through when you were a teenager?” You tease him, watching as his eyes widen when he realises what the photo is. It’s of Hoseok when he was a teenager; maybe fourteen or fifteen and with what looks like a bucket of grease on his head. The spikes of his hair turn quickly into an overly long hairstyle in the next picture, straightened but with a distinctive fringe covering one eye.

“You had an emo phase! Look at you! All that eyeliner and those neon streaks. I never had an emo phase, you know. I don’t think I had any phase to be honest. Except for a horse phase when I was really young.” Hoseok goes to grab for your phone, his mouth pulled into a cringe as you scroll to the next picture and reveal yet another emo looking Hoseok with an abundance of sweatbands, colourful wristbands and more. He looked distinctly drunk, even though he can’t have been more than sixteen.

It’s so strange seeing Hoseok with slightly chubbier cheeks, his body gangly and lean in that teenage boy way as it went through the process of puberty while his face still maintained such a youthful look. Despite that, you can see the template for the statuesque face he’d end up with already in the pictures. The elegant slope of his nose was still pretty, even if he’d not quite grown into it at that point and a jawline that’s not quite as strong as it is now.

“Mom sent you this, didn’t she?” He groans, rubbing at his eyes before peering back at the phone through gaps between his fingers. Chortling softly, you shake your head before looking back at the screen.

“No, actually. She put them on her Facebook. Apparently she found the pictures while cleaning and scanned them in. Reminiscing about your wild years.” That makes Hoseok make the strangest noise, a combination of a groan and a shout. He’s looking at his own phone instantly, face palming when he sees the pictures.

“Moooom,” He whines pathetically, looking through them. You place your phone down on the coffee table and shuffle closer to him, letting yourself see the photos through his screen. Glancing at his face, you take in his slight frown and the pout of his lips, hoping he’s not too annoyed that his mom has put them up.

“Are you angry at her?” Shaking his head, he sighs deeply before letting his phone drop onto the table too.

“Not really. Just...it’s more embarrassing. Though, isn’t that her job at this age? As you can see through; I’ve always been good looking. Maybe not always with the best style admittedly but...at least the music is still great. My Chemical Romance remains one of the best bands in my opinion, even if they’re not as heavy as what I listen to now.” Rolling your eyes, you pull your legs up and rest a hand on your knee.

“I mean...it was certainly a style.”

“So come on then, I’ve shown you mine. Where’s your embarrassing teenage pics?” Hoseok teases, sticking his tongue out at you playfully. The silver ball of his tongue piercing catching the light momentarily before it disappears into his mouth once more.

Awkwardly, you smile back at him before shrugging slightly. The sudden change in your behaviour is obviously noticeable as Hoseok frowns, tilting his head in a silent question at you. Licking your lips, you realise that you’re playing with your fingers. A nervous habit.

“I don’t have any,” At the confusion Hoseok shows, you clear your throat. “I mean, outside of graduation photos. I...I wouldn’t let myself be photographed back then.”

“Wha-, seriously? Like...none? I don’t think my parents would have let me, even as grumpy as I was to them all the time.” You can understand why he doesn’t understand. There’s not many people you can think of who have near enough zero pictures of those years. For many teenagers today, the very idea of not having a million pictures might be unthinkable.

“Have you ever been overweight?” You ask quietly, the question seemingly random as you lean into him until he has to wrap his arm around you to make it comfortable. For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Being with him for well over a year now means that you’ve come to understand him, the knowledge that he’s not ignoring you but considering your question carefully.

“No. Can’t say I have.” He finally answers, running his fingers along your arm slowly.

Twisting your lips, you sigh heavily and let your head fall back against his shoulders as you let your mind wander back to when you were younger. Back to where your insecurities began, all those years ago. Swallowing hard, you decide to go ahead with it. You’d alluded to it enough and now felt like the right time to finally talk about your formative years.

But your breath stutters, throat closing tighter as you realise it’s hard to go back to then. To when you were so easily hurt and affected by everything. Even in the safety of Hoseok’s embrace, you felt the tremor of fear and anxiety as your memories came back tainted.

“I have. I mean, when I was a little kid, I was like a stick. I could eat whatever I wanted and I used to spend so much time running around having fun. We don’t have too many pictures from back then; my parents couldn’t really afford a camera. Occasionally they’d get a disposable one but that’s about it. But...when I hit puberty around twelve or thirteen...I just kind of, ballooned? I don’t think I even realised it at the time, but it’s like my metabolism just plummeted or something. And before I knew it...I was the fat kid in class.” The heat in your eyes tells you that you’re on the verge of crying and you take a moment to breathe, blinking hard before looking up at the ceiling.

Hoseok remains quiet, letting you tell him without interrupting or anything.

“I mean...no one outright bullied me or anything, you know? It wasn’t like in the movies where you’re getting beaten up or shoved into lockers. It was more...the comments, the looks and just the general knowledge that you’re not attractive. Teenagers are really good at making those sly comments that are so hurtful, especially when you’re so young and still finding yourself. It’d be like...we’d be watching something and a pig would turn up on the screen and somebody would snicker and say it was me. Or someone else would joke about dating me and...I could just tell that it was an insult. And that their reasoning was my weight.” The arm around you tightens suddenly, as if hearing the casual cruelty you’d endured had ignited Hoseok’s protective instincts.

Memories flit by in your mind as you recall incidents; someone in your class finding out your crush and spreading that you liked them. Their disbelieving snort as they looked you up and down, their eyes falling heavily on your stomach before saying it would never happen. Without even realising it, you’re cradling your stomach now. Still not flat like you’d always fantasised, but not like it used to be.

You didn’t hate it now at least. Never loved, but not hated anymore.

“That...that sticks with you. Something I’m not too sure people realise is that, like, when you’re overweight...you’re constantly aware of it. It’s not just your body, it’s your life. It is you. There’s this weird mentality that people think overweight folk don’t know it, that you’re oblivious. You’re never oblivious. You’re not allowed to be oblivious. People make sure you’re aware, you know? The people telling you it’s unhealthy or it’s ugly and stuff. If you’re overweight, you’re well aware of these issues. But trying to resolve them is just as hard. You go to the gym and you’re aware of all the fat rolls, the way you jiggle and roll. How you’re out of breath doing the simplest thing while super fit people are probably watching you in disgust, even though you’re there to get fit,”

“If you eat, then you feel uncomfortably aware that you’re not just eating. That you’re fat and eating. So you become self-conscious over food. If it’s something healthy like a salad then you just think everyone is laughing at you. ‘What’s she bothering with that for?’. If it’s unhealthy then it’s more like, ‘of course she’s eating that, the lard ass’. You’re hyper aware of every aspect of your life and that’s the worst thing. Just...being so aware. You’re convinced that everyone is judging you, staring at you or talking about you. I felt so many times when I was like, fifteen or sixteen that I just...took up more space than I should.” Wiping at your eyes, you sniff before looking at Hoseok and giving him a watery smile.

The concern on his face for you makes your heart swell, the knowledge that he’s listening to you openly. That he cares. Even if you’re exposing a part of you that you’ve never let anyone see. Not even Chungha or Soyeon. It had felt far too personal, something that they couldn’t understand.

“It’s like...everyone has a certain amount of space they’re allowed to have, but when you’re fat, you realise that you take up more. And you become so aware that other people don’t like that. That they’re disgusted by the idea, and you become afraid of things like...sitting on a seat in a bus because you’re terrified of spreading past your ‘space’. Or sliding through a small gap and the panic that you’re just being...too much. I’d always try and run to the school bus when class finished so that I could find a seat first. And I’d always let the other person sit next to the window so that I could hang as close to the edge as possible and get off quickly. Then I’d panic that I’d look disgusting to others, half-hanging off the seat. I just...it affects you. Mentally. You just do things differently because you’re always aware of your body. In negative ways,”

“I’d never go swimming with anyone else. Mandatory swim classes left me panicked because it meant people would see me. See all the lumps and the bumps, everything I hated. I’d never look at myself naked in the mirror, or even in my underwear because I hated it. I was disgusted. I used to fantasise about just...slicing off bits of me to make myself nice and thin. I don’t even know if that’s normal.” Your voice breaks slightly, going slightly hoarse as you recall the pure hatred and revulsion you’d felt for yourself back then. The way your body felt like a cage you were trapped in.

Sitting up straight again, you take a deep breath to fortify yourself before smiling at him gently. Taking his hand, you squeeze it for reassurance and feel comforted when he squeezes back.

“I hated myself. Didn’t ever think I was going to be anything amazing. Or that I’d ever fall in love. How could anyone fall in love with me when I hated myself, right? When I was seventeen, I finally took the plunge and joined this free gym. Started eating healthier. It was really hard. I hated it so much. Vomited everywhere from the exercise, cried a lot. I wanted to lose weight healthily though, not too fast otherwise I’d end up thin but with skin flaps. So it was gradual. I wasn’t hugely overweight thankfully, but I only felt finally happy when I was nineteen.” Now you laugh at yourself, rolling your eyes and poking at your stomach in amusement before kissing Hoseok’s cheek playfully.

He doesn’t laugh back, causing you to kiss him gently. A silent way of letting him know that you’re okay, that it’s okay for him to laugh and smile too. When you pull away, he hesitates for a moment before giving you a slightly awkward smile. It’s enough for you.

“That’s why I didn’t have any experience until college. I was nineteen when I met Chungha and Soyeon in class. They were like...these ridiculously beautiful girls who were so confident and full of life, you know? Partygoers and everything. And I wasn’t. But somehow, we found things in common and it’s like...they knew I needed encouragement. So, it was slow but...I did stuff. I went to the parties...hated them just as much as I thought I would. Finally kissed a guy; wasn't as good as I thought it’d be. Lost my virginity to a random guy at a party in some house when I was twenty. Also wasn’t that good. The extent of my dating life was a few guys who didn’t last long. Both in terms of relationship and sex.” You grin at Hoseok, wiggling your brows and causing him to chuckle in amusement.

His chest gets a little bigger as he pushes it up, a smug look on his face. “All those memories obviously pale in comparison to my amazing kissing and sex skills.”

Snorting, you push at him playfully before reaching up and pulling him down, hand resting on the short undercut hair on his neck as you bring him into a kiss. Hoseok obviously wants to prove his skills, kissing you a little more intense than you’d expected but you just laugh into it before pulling away and smiling at him happily.

“Well...I’m not going to say you’re wrong. It did kind of depress me a little that it seemed guys were only interested when I was a bit thinner but, I also felt a weird sense of pride. That I’d finally done it. Gotten what I thought I’d wanted. Until I realised I hated that whole scene and wanted nothing to do with it. So...I just kept myself as in shape as I could over the years and tried to come to terms with myself. As you know...I’m not quite there. But I’m better than I was, I promise. I just feel a little bad that I was convinced being thin would change things. It changes some stuff but...not everything.”

You can tell that Hoseok isn’t entirely sure what to say. It isn’t surprising really, you wouldn’t have any idea how to respond to someone telling you all these sad things they’d experienced either. But then again, you were just generally useless when it came to anyone else’s emotions and feelings.

When he does finally speak again, his question surprises you completely as it seems to have nothing to do with what you’d just been telling him.

“Did you drink alcohol back then? I know you don’t drink it now because you don’t like the taste but if you went to parties…” He trails off, his face twisted in question as he considers what you’ve said. It was true that you didn’t like the taste, hence why you never drank it. You also just preferred to drink something like water as it was much healthier for you.

“I did. Too much. When I started going to them, I threw myself into the alcohol as it helped me to overcome my shyness. A drunk me is apparently very outgoing. I also have very little inhibitions when I’m drunk. Pretty sure the only reason I first kissed a guy was because I was completely fucked. And I’d drank a lot when I lost my virginity; there was no other way I was going to get naked in front of a guy.” You don’t notice the instant concern on Hoseok’s face when you say that, your gaze far away as you stare unseeingly at the TV screen.

You’re too busy remembering those wild years in college. Or what you can remember anyway. Another reason you hated alcohol was the way you didn’t feel in control of yourself and your emotions while inebriated along with the way you often end up forgetting parts of a night. Why anyone could possibly enjoy that all the time was beyond you.

“You...I hate to have to ask this but...you did...consent to it. Right? It wasn’t like...forced on you?” Hoseok sounds intensely uncomfortable as he asks the questions, causing you to frown as you look back at him. “I just...if you were really as drunk as you say you were, then I mean, well, I just...I wouldn’t have been comfortable sleeping with a girl who would only sleep with me if she was completely inebriated.”

He shifts in position on the couch, bringing a knee up so only one foot remains on the floor while taking your hands. The look on his face is completely earnest and filled with worry. For you. And you finally click as to what he’s talking about. Hoseok is concerned that you may have been raped for your first time.

Smiling at him gently, you squeeze his hands and shake your head. “No, no baby. Please don’t think that, I swear. It was consensual. I wasn’t that drunk. Just...enough to let me get over my worries. I needed the alcohol for the confidence and the lights off. I remember it all though. He wasn’t good but he wasn’t mean or anything either.”

His worry seems to decrease a little, shoulders lowering as he lets out a deep breath and you marvel for a moment that you’ve found someone who gets worried about things like that. Things that you hadn’t even bothered to properly consider. If you hadn’t been completely sure in the knowledge of your first time then you’d be concerned as well.

Leaning forward, you kiss his cheek affectionately before grinning at him and cupping his chin. “Thank you for being concerned about me though. I promise, I’ve never been forced into anything like that. I may not have enjoyed a lot of sex but I did it openly in the hopes of it getting better.”

Hoseok’s cheeks flush ever so slightly and you laugh sweetly, kissing his lips quickly before shifting back. Leaning against the couch sideways, you let your head flop onto the back and smile at him.

“So, yeah. That’s why I have no pictures of me from being a teenager. If you thought I don’t like being photographed now, then you’d be shocked to see me back then.” There’s a moment where Hoseok is stiff, unsure of what to do before he smiles back and shifts into a similar position, his head closer than you might have anticipated.

But you get the sense that he’s a little uncertain of how to proceed now.

So you make the move for him, gently pushing at him until he’s laying on the couch. The L-shape means he’s at the point the two halves connect, one half completely free except for Kasumi stretched out. But you want the safety and security of his body. Not only for yourself, but also to comfort him. Even if he hasn’t said it, you can tell he’s a little unsettled by your negative feelings towards yourself.

Hoseok let’s you move him with ease, smiling happily when you get yourself settled and comfortable. His natural scent is strongest at the base of his neck, and you inhale it happily while your arm rests over his waist. Even if you’d talked about your deep and painful teenage years as willingly as you could to him, it was still traumatic to remember. And you needed your own comfort to assure yourself that those years were over.

“Well, I don’t think you’d have wanted to meet teenage Hoseok. So it's probably a good idea we never knew each other.” Humming, you recall all the times Hoseok has told you about his own teenage years. Unlike you, he was much more open about them. Mainly because he acknowledged how bad he’d been.

“I doubt it would have mattered anyway. From what I’ve learnt from you, teenage Hoseok wouldn’t have given me one look. Nevermind two looks.” There’s a brief pause and you feel Hoseok’s chest rise as he goes to respond. He stops though and you chuckle, running your fingers along the soft material of his shirt over his stomach.

“...you might have got one look. I mean, I’ll be honest. I wasn’t exactly picky but that’s not a good thing. Just means I was an out of control teenager. Besides, it sounds like you were very shy and quiet. I was...not. Loud, brash, abrasive. Often drunk and high. God, I was terrible. I don’t know how my parents put up with me, honestly. I wouldn’t have wanted you to meet me. I’d have just hurt you even more.” Humming, you wiggle against him slightly and kiss his neck gently.

“I’m glad we met when we did. I think we’d both had enough time to grow and accept ourselves. There’s no way I would have reached out to you if I was still like my teenage self. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have said yes if you’d been like you were.”

“True. Three cheers for maturity! But on a more serious note; I’m glad you’ve told me. I figured there was something along those lines after all these months but...I understand more now. I hope I haven’t made you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.” Closing your eyes, you nuzzled closer to him while shaking your head.

“You haven’t. At least, not through anything you’ve done. It’s mostly been in my head. If anything...you’ve helped me to grow and become more...loving of myself. Just you accepting me has helped so much for my mind to understand that...well, I’m not ugly or anything. That you’re not judging me. And that you actually find me attractive. It’s a slow process.” You feel the press of Hoseok’s soft lips against your forehead, their warmth resting there for a few moments while the arm wrapped around you gently runs along your arm.

The very fact that you can talk with him like this is pure proof of the growth you’ve experienced over almost a year and a half with Hoseok. Just his welcome acceptance and love of you has created a safe space for you to explore yourself and grow comfortable in your own skin and mind. It was nice.

“I’m glad. And if I ever do anything that’s wrong, then please tell me. The last thing I want is to be an asshole by accident. Or remind you of a bad time.” Laughing gently, you smile and nod before tightening your arms around his waist fondly.

“I mean...I’m still considering the whole lingerie thing. Especially those super revealing ones. I’d love to wear one but I just...don’t think I look sexy in them.” Pouting, you shift as Hoseok moves until he’s looking at you with wide eyes that quickly become stern. Poking your cheek gently, he tuts.

“I’m not gonna push you into that, but there’s literally no way you wouldn’t look sexy wearing black lace lingerie. Oh god. Just the thought of you in it makes me hard. But for now, I’m content with my mind for that.” The way he presses his hips against you lets you know that he’s being truthful, the mental image of you in the lingerie you’d bought on a whim the other month causing the erection that presses against you.

Grinning, you push at him until he’s laying back again and crawl on top of him, raising your brows. “I think you just get horny at the thought of sex full stop.”

“Well...duh. I’m a man. With a beautiful girlfriend. Whom I enjoy sex with.” Laughing loudly, you lean down and kiss his nose playfully. The whine he lets out when he tries to follow you for a proper kiss causes you to grin as you press at his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Glad to hear it.”

412 notes · View notes

ffwriterbts · 3 years

Text

Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 3

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! I’m doing basically double of what I had planned for this part bc it’s been so long since I updated~

Word Count: 6,060

Warnings: Blood; Angst; A wolf attack; Some medicinal references; Mental health issues

Posted: 23 Dec 2020

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Once YN gets into the groove of creation, she doesn’t stop until she’s either almost pissing herself, or so hungry/thirsty she’s about to faint. YN has never known how to do things like this in moderation, and if she was actually being honest with herself she really should have had someone else there to make sure she takes breaks and actually ends up eating and drinking and taking care of herself in the ways that every human needs to.

But instead, she stayed there, hunched over the too-large desk in a too-large chair, surrounded by too-large wolves, completely ignoring her basal instincts in favor of destroying her spine and having words flow from her finger tips. She’s so caught up in the world and characters she’s created, that she doesn’t even notice when the grey wolf leaves his post, with one of the brown ones taking his place. She doesn’t notice the generally worrying sounds coming from outside her home, or the way the two brown wolves rush away. She doesn’t notice the way the black wolf stands guard, protectively standing between YN’s hunched form and the door, a snarl etched onto his beautiful-but-terrifying face.

That is, she doesn’t notice any of these things until the other three wolves come crashing back into the house, the scent of blood heavy in the air. The black wolf growls, nudging YN and breaking her from her trance. Once she realizes what’s going on, or at least that someone’s hurt, YN immediately turns away from her computer, tripping over her own two feet in her rush to get out the door.

She has no idea how long she’s been typing away, but her legs feel like jello and she’s slightly dizzy as she stands and subsequently falls. But the fall jolts her awake, the stinging in her knees seeming to bring all the feeling back into her legs all at once.

Ignoring the pain, YN scrambles out and towards the back door, running into three wolves with bloodstained muzzles and paws. YN recoils, both from the strong scent and the terrifying sight of gigantic wolves with blood all over them, but before she can truly react, they push past her and right into the main bathroom.

YN follows them, shocked and worried and in a daze, absently thankful that the house has such a large bathroom. She watches as the messiest of them, the grey wolf, steps quickly into the jacuzzi tub, before all their heads turn towards her. For a moment, she just stares back at them, but the black wolf behind her nudges her, pushing her forward, she walks into the bathroom, turning the water on and grabbing a washcloth.

She mutters to herself about soap, absently grabbing the pet shampoo that she found under the sink and didn’t have the heart to throw out to try to help clean the blood, before she sits in the tub, taking one of the wolves huge paws into her hand.

Nevermind the fact she’s sitting in water, or the fact that she could easily be killed right then and there by the huge beasts, she doesn’t process anything that’s going on. She doesn’t even try.

Instead she works, cleaning paws and muzzles and coats, drying fur and addressing minor cuts and scrapes, sending the wolves away as she finishes with them so she can clean everything. It isn’t until she’s on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor with all her might to remove the bloody paw prints that lead from her door to the bathroom, that she really thinks about anything.

That blood could have been from anything. From anyone. For all she knew, she was helping four wolves that could somehow talk in her head to her commit a murder.

And so, she cried.

On her hands and knees, in the bathroom that once belonged to her grandparents, then her uncle, and now her.

She sobbed, collapsing down onto the floor, banging her fists against it in a way that she felt sure would hurt in the morning, but now only served to tether her to the moment.

It couldn’t be real, could it? It felt real, sure, but was it? Really?

But when her eyes cleared of tears, and the pain of sitting on her knees for too long combined with the sting of hitting the floor with too much strength were remembered, there were still the remnants of bloody paw prints on the floor.

There were still four wolves watching her intently.

And then there were three, two.

And then only the black wolf remained, his eyes following her as she did what she needed to in order to put her house back in order.

She was comforted, in a strange way, by the wolf. Her wolf.

YN was working tirelessly to make sure everything was okay, that everything was normal, and still completely ignoring her body.

Her knees hurt, both from her fall and from sitting on them for too long. Her fingers were stiff, her hands stinging. She was incredibly hungry, not having eaten much of anything in the past two days, and it wasn’t like she was drinking anything either. She felt dizzy, off kilter, light headed. And to top it all off, her back felt like it might as well have been on fire, with all the weird contortions she’d been doing for the past couple days.

‘Rest.’

It was her wolf’s voice, breaking through the noise of her thoughts.

“I’m not done here wolf. No rest.” She mumbles, but she’s sure he can hear her.

‘Not a suggestion.’

His voice was stronger this time, and punctuated by a sharp growl. Suddenly, a paw bats the scrubber out of her hands, a muzzle pushing her over and onto the floor.

‘Rest.’

YN let out a strangled sort of half sob, curling herself into a ball. She did need the rest, that wasn’t really up for dispute, but what she really wanted was not to have to be the one to take care of everything anymore.

Slowly, the wolf nudges YN to the point she’s fully around again, and she slowly gets to her feet. She drags herself to her room and collapses onto her bed, not even bothering to pull the covers over herself, instead wrapping her arms around one of her pillows and giving in to the great need for rest.

Later, she wouldn’t be able to tell anyone why she did what she did, or why she felt like there wasn’t any other choice for her. The memories of that night would always be fragmented for her, shattered into a million little pieces that didn’t really seem real. It was just too much.

She could handle the blood, she could handle the injury, she could handle the talking in her brain. YN could handle all of it separately, she had no doubt about that. But together? Like this? That was more than she was able to understand.

The worst part? It was too much for her to rationalize away.

She had felt the soft fur of the wolves between her fingers, felt the sticky residue their rough tongues left on her hands, felt the weight of their heads resting on her. She had smelled the sharp scent of blood mixed with the comforting smell of the forest she loved so much, she had smelled the musky odor they left behind. She had heard their yelps and howls and growls, heard their voices floating around her mind in a way that was completely distinct from anything she had ever thought herself. She saw them as they stalked around her home, saw them as their beautiful eyes followed her from place to place.

But still, she felt crazy. Insane. And it tore her up inside in a way she was wholly unprepared for.

The wolf watches as she does all of this, knowing full well exactly the amount of mental anguish was running through her veins. Sometimes, he really hated their ability to read minds, seeing as it was usually just incredibly inconvenient, but it was at times like this he could see the bittersweet aspects of it. He knew, eventually YN would learn to protect her mind and he wouldn’t be able to see these things, but for the time being, he was completely free to access the raw, painful, heart wrenching emotions and traumas that pass through YN’s brain.

Slowly, the wolf planted the seeds of their return into her life, knowing that right now, the best thing would be to make sure they leave her and leave as little of their scent behind as possible. He didn’t like the idea of leaving her without any protection, but they knew that’s what they had to do. They’d never liked having to leave innocent people without anything to keep them from getting hurt.

The wolf stalked over to the now sleeping human, softly nudging her hand one last time, before slipping out of her home with a practiced sort of light stealth. He would hang around outside until dawn, and then slink away into the forest to join back up with the rest of his pack.

~~~~~

In the next couple months, YN fell back into her usual routine, with only one big change, surprisingly.

After she woke up alone that first day, YN tried to rationalize what had happened to her. She had been hallucinating, or hadn’t been sleeping enough, or took one too many walks in the woods and let her imagination get the better of her, or- well, something like that at least.

And those first few weeks, YN was comfortable calling the experience a fever dream of some sort and leaving it at that. Life goes on. She still had deadlines to meet and a home to take care of. She still took walks in the woods, she still holed herself away to write, she still was learning how to can and preserve and experimenting with all the foods she never got to before. She was still happy, living in the large home alone, going weeks without talking to anyone else face to face, dodging questions from her mother.

That was, at least, until they started showing up again.

The wolves were back. Well, not back per se, not in the same way they were, but they were around. She would catch them out of the corners of her eyes, or look out her window and find the forest had gained a pair of eyes to spy on her, or she’d open up the back door and find a wolf lounging in a nice patch of sun between the forest and the door, always squarely centered on her favorite little path.

Something in YN wanted to go over to them, wanted to talk to them, wanted to ask them a million questions about what happened, because if they weren't as real as they seemed, she was going batshit insane.

She could see them, following her as she went from one place to the next in the forest she loved. She could hear them breaking twigs under their great weight every now and then. But they never got close to her. They never came up to her door, they never tried to get in, they never got close enough for her to look at them.

It was frustrating for YN, sure, but she accepted them as beings that would just always be on the edge of her vision, watching from the shadows and seemingly keeping tabs on her. Every now and then she would call out and say this or that to them, but she would never get any sort of a response.

In short, YN got used to having the figures in the corners of her eyes. She got used to the forest having eyes. She got used to the feeling of being watched by them, which surprisingly didn’t make her feel anything but safe.

And so she fell right back into her routine, right back into everything she had been doing before the strange couple days, with only the small addition of eyes following her most of the time.

But as she cooked and cleaned and wrote and weeded and went on her walks in the forest, it felt like something wasn’t quite right. It felt like there was something missing, though YN had no idea how to put something like that into anything resembling words.

Instead, the feeling of loss and wrongness settled into the pit of her stomach as a sort of unwavering heaviness, making her feel slightly sick almost all the time, like the last day of a bad stomach bug. She didn’t even attempt to connect the dots between her deeply unsettled stomach and the disappearing of the wolves, or between the fact she felt slightly better when she was aware that one of the wolves was watching her, studying her. No, instead she just dealt with it, slowly eating less and less and working more and more, figuring she just needed to sleep it off or something.

And she really didn’t connect the dots when two giant men showed up at her door, both of them the ethereal kind of pretty, and the pains that had seemingly antagonized her on and off for literal months up and disappeared.

~~~~~

YN had woken up earlier than usual, not that she had really gotten that much sleep in the first place. She was tired, but honestly, she had more important things to worry about than if she was getting enough sleep or not. There were deadlines that were fast approaching, and her editor was sending her works back with more and more things to work on and correct.

She was in the process of making herself the strongest pot of coffee she could and scrounging around the fridge to make sure she had enough food for the rest of the day, when she heard a knock at the door. At first, she thought it was the front door, grumbling and setting things aside to deal with them in a minute, but just as she was passing the back door, the knocking came again, unmistakably from there.

Brow furrowing in confusion, YN pivots on her heel and slides the back door open, half expecting to be murdered where she stood by some rogue escaped serial killer, on the loose and thirsting for blood. Instead she was met with two very tall, incredibly attractive men, both of whom had bright smiles on their faces.

“Um, hi?” YN says, absently taking a step back so she can see up to their faces easier.

“Hello! My name is Namjoon, and this is my partner, Seokjin. We were just in the area and saw your lights on, so we figured we would come and properly say hello and introduce ourselves.” The taller of the two men, Namjoon, spoke, and the other gave a bright smile and wave.

“Please, call me Jin.” He says

“Oh um I’m YN, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” YN speaks very formally, unsure of what else to do. “Would you like to come in for some coffee? Maybe a bite to eat?”

Her mouth works before she can think of what’s going on, but the two men gladly accept, and it’s not like she can take the offer back, so she sets about making them coffee, asking them questions about what kind of things they would like for their breakfast.

It doesn’t take long for YN to feel much more comfortable, joking and laughing with the large men, getting to know them. In fact, the only thing she finds to be weird about them, other than their incredibly large size (which does nothing but make her feel small in a way she had never felt before), was the fact that neither of them had shoes. But YN, ever being the polite and courteous host, didn’t ask them about that, and purposefully put it out of her mind.

“So where are you two from? It must be a pretty nice place, judging by how you’re dressed.” YN asks almost absently, hoping up into one of the chairs around the dining table. For the life of her, she could never figure out why so many things seemed to just be sized up.

She almost misses how Namjoon and Jin share a glance with each other before answering, before Jin clears his throat, giving a small shake of his head.

“We actually live on the other side of the woods. It’s pretty far, seeing as the whole thing is completely protected, but yeah, it’s a pretty nice place. We love it, and we get to live with the 5 people we love most in the world.” Seokjin speaks in a tone that expresses just how much love and adoration he holds for the people involved.

“Oh that’s lovely! Are they children of yours?” YN asks, turning her head down to focus on stirring sugar and creamer into her coffee, completely missing the glance that is passed between Namjoon and Seokjin.

“No, not really. I mean, we helped to raise them, but they’re all full grown adults.” Jin responds, looking to Namjoon to add anything he deemed to be important.

“Yoongi and Hobi are older than me, so I would hope they aren’t our kids.” Namjoon chuckles, taking a bite of his food and letting out a small hum of appreciation.

“So you’re just like a big happy family?” YN asks, a little lost in the swirling of the coffee before her, absently still asking questions.

Jin and Namjoon both share a look, both of them knowing full well that YN wasn’t really paying that much attention to them, seeing as she was practically throwing her thoughts in their direction.

“Yeah, we really are. Some people don’t understand us, but that’s okay, not everyone understands how other people live.” Namjoon speaks again, softly smiling at the girl, who was still intently stirring her coffee. Despite the fact that he had only just formally met her, there was a sort of fondness growing in his chest for the girl.

“That’s so sweet!” YN gushes, finally tearing her eyes away from the coffee and back up to the faces of her guests. “I’ve always wanted a family like that.”

YN smiles widely at the men, settling in to talk to them about this and that, and honestly, she thoroughly enjoyed every second she spent with them. After months of not being able to eat right, she was finally able to put away an entire meal, plus coffee and water, without any difficulties. Plus, she was surprisingly happy to have contact with real people again, after so long living in what is basically isolation.

When the men finally took their leave, after almost four hours that is, they promised they would be back soon, and that they would bring some of the other boys with them next time. YN laughed as she told them that she would be absolutely delighted to get to meet the people that she had now heard so many stories about, making them promise they wouldn’t be strangers before they finally disappeared.

She noted, almost absently, that they walked right out the back door and down her favorite path in the forest, barefoot, but she was so happy at the fact that she had made friends with new people, that she chose to ignore that fact.

In fact, she chose to ignore a lot of things after she took what was left of her coffee into the study, still intent on getting work done. It wasn’t two hours after they left that YN was back to having the same stomach pains she had grown so used to.

Silently cursing herself, thinking it had to have been from drinking almost an entire pot of coffee after weeks of not sleeping correctly, not even attempting to consider that it was from anything other than that. Surely, it had to have been a complete coincidence that Jin and Namjoon were there during the time that she was actually feeling normal, right? And again, another coincidence that she started feeling worse after they left, right? Nothing else would have made any sort of sense, after all, and YN was great at rationalizing.

However, even someone as great at rationalizing as YN had to start putting the pieces together at some point. Despite this, YN was also incredibly stubborn and refused to think any of her issues were anything other than just the protests of a body that is used too often for things that it really shouldn’t be, and pushed towards, or past, limits that were not meant to be broken.

~~~~~~

Jin and Namjoon, on the other hand, were incredibly pleased with themselves. They now knew for sure that YN didn’t really know too much, and didn’t trust her overactive imagination enough to trust what she had seen and experienced fully. That part, at least, reassured them that she wasn’t going to turn them into any government officials.

However, they were still incredibly confused. How could a clear Omega like YN not know anything? Sure, she hadn’t fully presented yet, but they could smell it off her a mile away, and that’s why Yoongi decided to trust her when she found him out in the woods. And yet, she was completely unprotected. There was no Alpha, no Beta, no pack looking out for her.

And for whatever reason, they decided that they would have to at least make sure she didn’t die or fall into the wrong hands. At least, until the Beta that they had smelled around the premises came back to collect their Omega.

But then one month passed.

Two.

Three.

They didn’t see anyone else go into the house. Hell, they barely saw her leave! Everyday, the scent of a possible Beta got fainter and fainter, and they began to muse that maybe, just maybe, the Beta had just caught wind of the untethered Omega and tried to get in there for themself.

And so, the pack had decided it was time that they met her as people, and figured out what was actually going on. Despite everything, it hurt them to see the little Omega working herself so hard, in so much pain, so confused about what was going on.

So Jin and Namjoon, ever looking out for their pack, made their way over to her home at dawn, waiting until they knew she was awake to go knock on the door.

Immediately, they had their guard up, waiting for the telltale signs of an Omega probing into their minds, but nothing came. They went into her home, ate her food, drank her coffee and water, but most importantly, they talked.

Jin was suspicious, going into it. He was sure that YN held some sort of ulterior motive, that she was going to ambush them or try to poison them, or… something. But seeing her standing at her door, absolutely minuscule by their standards, still blinking sleep from her eyes with confusion etched onto her features because of the early hour and the men she had never seen, he felt the same sort of gut feeling of trust that Yoongi had felt when he was lying in the woods.

That Namjoon had felt when he decided it was fine for them to spend the day with YN, until Yoongi was well enough to travel home.

That Jungkook and Taehyung had felt when they walked into her home and wanted to play, though they behaved on Namjoon’s order.

Jin decided then and there that they had to protect YN, no matter the cost. And Namjoon, hearing his most trusted person’s utter trust of the girl, came to the same conclusion not a second later. YN was meant to be with them, they could feel it in their bones. They shared a glance, both of them hoping that she felt it too.

Once the pair arrived back at the house, they were met with a bombardment of questions from the other five, especially Jimin and Hoseok, who hadn’t had the chance to meet YN in any way just yet.

“Come on now hyung! Out with it! What’s your verdict?” Jimin almost whines as he bounces on his feet, wanting to go and meet YN himself. “I wanna meet her!”

Jin and Namjoon share a glance, the kind that makes the rest of the boys pay attention, fearing that they had made a mistake, and YN wasn’t half as trustworthy as she seemed to be.

“Well, we trust her. We think it was right to trust her, and right to let her help you, Yoongi.” Namjoon is the one that speaks, his tone serious despite the smile that breaks onto his features at the end of his sentence.

“YN invited us to all come over sometime, preferably soon. She really is excited to meet all of you, after all the stories we told today.” Jin lets out his signature laugh as he nudges the man standing beside him, causing the boys standing before the two to celebrate.

“When are we going then? We know she doesn’t have much of a schedule.” Yoongi speaks up as he flinches away from the loud celebration of Jimin and Hoseok beside him, affection in his gaze, despite the look of disgust lighting up his face.

“Actually, I was thinking we would go this weekend. But, knowing you lot, you’d eat everything she’s ever made and ask for more. So, Yoongi, I was wondering if you’d come with me on Friday to prepare everything for Saturday.” Jin speaks again, moving himself and Yoongi away from the commotion that was slowly gaining traction among the younger members.

“Of course Hyung. Honestly, I’ve been missing YN, in a weird way. She was so amazingly sweet to me when I was hurt. She really did save my life, at the end of the day. I’m glad that you agree with my original assessment.” Yoongi speaks in that low tone he tends to use when he really means what he’s talking about, and Jin just smiles at him.

“I can understand why. YN’s first thought after assessing us to not be psycho-rapist-murders, was to invite us in to eat. It seems like a theme with her, to see us and want to make sure we are eating properly.” Jin chuckles as Yoongi smiles in appreciation, thankful that Jin didn’t take the opportunity to make fun of him.

The rest of the week is spent with Jin and Yoongi brainstorming what to make. They knew that they would have to take quite the car trip in order to get to YN’s with all the groceries that they would need in order to make enough to feed all seven of the wolves, plus YN. With their higher body temperature came a faster metabolism, which meant, as a result, that they ate a ton as a group.

Once they did finally settle on something that was filling, not super complicated to make, and easy to store, the pair gathered everything they needed, ready and waiting for Friday.

Friday morning rolled around, and Yoongi was strangely nervous. He was thankful to Jin for giving him the opportunity to spend a little bit of time with YN in a more personal setting, where he could show off his cooking skills and where his more reserved personality wouldn’t be completely overshone by the boisterous boys he called his pack. At the same time, there was a voice in the back of his head telling him that she was going to hate everything about him, that whatever connection he felt to her when he was healing was completely one sided and because of his wolf form, not because of him in any way.

As the pair packed up the car, Jin noticed just how distracted Yoongi seemed, but decided not to ask him about it until they were safely in the car, away from prying ears.

Namely, the ears of Jimin and Taehyung, ever the troublesome twins, who were currently trying to figure out a way to stow away in the back without Jin or Yoongi finding them out. Clearly, that was doomed to fail, seeing as Yoongi stood and watched as they made their plan, shaking his head at the antics, getting ready to scold them, despite the smile on his face.

“Boys, please. Go back inside. YN will be ready and willing to see you tomorrow, don’t worry.” Jin brushes past Yoongi as he takes both boys by the collar, dragging them out of the back of the vehicle and shooing them away, despite their chorus of cries in protest.

Yoongi shakes himself out of his reprieve, sliding into the passenger's seat without a second thought.

He almost jumps out of his skin when Jin opens the door, again trying to shake himself of the anxious spiral of self doubt that threatens to suck him into it’s incredibly rude clutches.

“Seatbelt.” Jin prompts softly, pointedly looking at the mirrors instead of his friend, making minor adjustments to them. Yoongi scoffs, knowing full well that a car crash wouldn’t really hurt either of them, but after a pointed look from Jin, he complies.

With a mumbling of thanks and the click of a seatbelt, the car falls into silence. It isn’t until Jin makes the suggestion that Yoongi turn on some music, maybe something he’d been working on, that Yoongi seems to fully break out of the aforementioned spiral.

“Hyung, this one you’ll like. I’ve been trying out this new style with…” Jin hums in appreciation as Yoongi starts rambling on about the technicalities of the music he had been working on recently, thankful to get the man talking again. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, Yoongi did better when he wasn’t thinking about himself, and instead had something else to focus on.

The rest of the car ride was spent with Yoongi showing off his music, Jin listening and asking questions when needed. Honestly, both of them loved this sort of calm, collected sharing of information. They are fishing partners for a reason, after all.

When the pair finally pull into YN’s driveway, they immediately pull around back so they can be closer to the kitchen with their things. YN is out in the garden, dutifully tending to the plants that her uncle loved so much. If they weren’t able to read her every thought, the boys would have assumed she didn’t even notice their vehicle pulling around her house, but they knew that she was acutely aware of the fact that they were there.

Absently, YN wipes her hands on the leggings she had thrown on, trying to get at least a bit of the dirt off of them before she went to see who had pulled into her driveway and what they needed.

She was just turning around to fully see what was going on, when she caught sight of Jin and broke out in a bright smile.

“Jin! You’re back so soon!” YN called, hurrying her way over to the vehicle as Jin walked leisurely around to the trunk. “And you brought someone, just like you said!” YN sighs, bright eyes looking up at Yoongi as she introduces herself properly.

Yoongi just smiled as he introduced himself as well, absently thinking of just how miniscule she really was, by their standards. Sure, she was maybe a little petitie for the average woman, but by their standards? She was like a child.

YN turns her attention to Jin, curious about what he’s getting out of the trunk, with Yoongi trailing behind her slightly. Out of habit, he is scanning her thoughts to make sure she’s not harboring any ill intent, careful not to get into the section of her thoughts about him or any of the pack.

“The boys want to meet you, but feeding all of us is more than a chore, so we are going to make sure you have plenty of food stocked up for us. And don’t try to protest, I’d feel bad if I let them eat you out of house and home.” Jin takes on a stern tone, and YN puts her hands up, the argument she had dying.

“When are you all going to be here? It’s not like I have plans, but I would like to actually be awake for the event.” YN lets out a little giggle that makes both Jin and Yoongi smile a little too largely.

“If you’re comfortable with it, tomorrow.” Jin has his arms full, and he walks over towards the back door, slightly annoyed that he has to pretend he’s not even a quarter of how strong he actually is by taking multiple trips.

“The boys are incredibly impatient, honestly.” Yoongi steps around YN and takes some of the groceries into his own arms, figuring he will be helpful too.

“That’ll be wonderful!” YN rocks on her feet slightly, clearly excited to meet new people and have friends in the way she hadn’t before. “Let me just text my mom and make sure she won’t call in the middle-” YN pats her pockets, frowning as she can’t find her phone.

Turning on her heel, with an adorable bounce in her step, she makes her way back over to the section of the garden she had been working on, figuring she must have dropped the phone somewhere.

YN takes about 15 steps before there’s a noise off in the direction of the woods that has all three people snapping their heads to look at it. YN doesn’t even have time to register what’s going on before a snowy figure slams into her with what feels like a wall of moving concrete.

Yoongi and Jin, completely stunned, watch as a wolf they recognize as being from a rival pack slam herself into YN’s tiny form, throwing her across the yard and into the wall of her home, before she clamps her teeth down on YN’s shoulder, attempting to drag her away.

Yoongi is the first to react, ripping his shirt off and tossing his shoes out of the way, transforming to the tune of YN’s screaming. He can feel the pain and terror rolling off of YN’s form in waves, he can smell the sweat and blood, he can hear the heart-wrenching screams tearing out of her throat.

Jin immediately drops whatever food he was holding, running after the white wolf that was attempting to take YN and the inky wolf he knew so well. Assessing the situation, Jin knew transforming wouldn’t help, so instead, he scoops up Yoongi’s discarded shirt and runs full speed after them.

He makes it into the woods just in time to see Yoongi’s black form slam into the white wolf, causing her to open her mouth just enough that YN slips away. He watches as another blood-curdling scream rips its way out of YN’s mouth as she lands on the ground, her ankle crunching and turning in an unnatural way as she tumbles head first to the ground, finally stopping the violent movement by slamming into a tree with enough force the breath is completely taken out of her.

As Yoongi distracts the white wolf, Jin runs and scoops YN up, doing his best to keep her as stable as possible. She’s bleeding profusely from the bites in her shoulder, her ankle is laying at a completely unnatural angle, she’s gasping and coughing up a bit of blood, her back and side are most likely deeply bruised, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she has a few cracked ribs.

Jin listens intently to the snarls and growls that YN can’t hear, recognizing the sounds of Yoongi winning. The white wolf is only a beta, and she’s small. Jin has complete confidence that Yoongi will be back soon, with more blood on his hands, and maybe only a couple scratches to show for it.

In the meantime, Jin quickly throws the couple groceries that were left in the back of the SUV out, laying YN down in the back and taking an actual look at her wounds for the first time. She’s almost hyperventilating, pain rolling off of her, blood leaking out of her and staining the floor of the car.

“YN, darling, I need you to calm down, okay?” Jin speaks for the first time as he quickly makes makeshift bandages out of Yoongi’s discarded shirt, wrapping up her shoulder as best he can.

YN just looks at Jin with wild eyes, breathing still coming in ragged gasps. Her throat was on fire, her mouth tasted like metal, her shoulder burned.

“I know it hurts darling, but I need you to calm down.” Jin reiterates, looking past her shoulder to the other wounds, able to finally focus on actually looking at YN and trying to calm her down more before he tried to do anything more.

“Look at me YN.” Jin brings a hand to the side of YN’s face, taking a strip of Yoongi’s shirt and wiping off the blood that had dribbled out of her mouth from her coughing fit. “You’re safe YN, it’s okay. We will always make sure you’re safe, don’t worry.”

YN tries to open her mouth, but she can’t make any words come out. She’s close to passing out, but Jin is keeping her awake. Everything is hazy, it feels like she’s crying but she can’t tell if it’s tears or blood dripping down her face.

Jin’s brow furrows as he hears sticks breaking in the woods, fully ready to transform and murder the white beta, even though he absolutely hated violence. He never would be able to put his finger on what made him so protective over YN, even right from the get go.

But, it was Yoongi who stumbled out of the woods, black fur soaked in blood. The wolf walked up to the back of the vehicle, looking up at Jin’s form, a snarl on his lips which let Jin see the flecks of red still staining them.

“I’m going to set your ankle YN. It’s going to hurt. Badly.” Jin captures YN’s attention, balling up a relatively clean piece of Yoongi’s shirt and stuffing it in her mouth so she doesn’t bite her tongue off.

“Yoongi, go get two sticks, as straight as you can find.” Jin orders, Yoongi immediately bounds off to the forest, emerging only a minute later with two sticks in his mouth.

In the minute it took Yoongi to get the sticks, Jin took off his own shirt, ripping it into makeshift bandages as well, keeping the pieces long. He takes the sticks from Yoongi and places them beside YN in the back of the vehicle, quickly taking off YN’s shoe and sock, ripping off the bottom portion of her legging so he can have the access he needs.

“This is going to hurt. You may pass out.” Jin sounds clinical as he lightly brushes the ankle in question, double checking exactly what he needs to do before he does it.

With one quick motion, Jin puts YN’s ankle back the way it’s supposed to be, another scream tearing out of YN that has Yoongi growling, pacing around behind Jin. It’s a delayed response, but YN does in fact pass out from the pain, her head lolling over to one side as Jin wraps the sticks on either side of YN’s ankle, making sure none of the bandaging is too tight.

“I have no idea what kind of damage is underneath, she may need surgery.” Jin turns and looks at Yoongi, who doesn’t do anything but growl. He doesn’t seem to like that idea.

“I don’t like it any more than you do Yoongs.” Jin walks quickly around the car, putting all the back seats down so there’s room for both YN and Yoongi in the back of the vehicle.

“I’ll take the emergency path in the woods, you watch her. If something happens or looks wrong, let me know immediately.” Jin watches as Yoongi hops into the car, carefully arranging himself so that YN has all the room she needs.

Once Yoongi is situated, Jin moves YN so she is propped up against Yoongi, knowing that he will be better able to monitor her in that close position. He closes all the doors, hops into the driver's seat, and sets off into the woods, going as fast as he dares to.

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lluvguts · 3 years

Text

Cool Blue ; Chapter Two

⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚۰˚☽˚⤹⋆⸙͎۪۫｡˚

sunlight on your face

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☽ warnings: none

☽ fic masterlist

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The sun had crossed Luca's mind many times before, but he was just too afraid to see what it looked like. He'd asked his grandmother what the sun felt like once (or twice, or three times even, Luca had lost count). She would only give her grandson a gentle smile and stick out one hand so Luca's tail would brush along her forearm affectionately.

"That is something for you to find out one day," She winked. "But I'll tell you a little bit about it for now. Sometimes the sun is brilliant and warm on your scales...and other times, it'll burn you." She ended her sentence with another toothy grin and one hand to her breastbone to quiet her knowing laughter.

Luca gaped at her solemnity. "The sun...burns?" He couldn't possibly fathom the idea.

But the sun was so...bright! He imagined it was a big creamy ball in the sky, full of sugar the seeped into the Earth. And the more he mulled it over the harder it was to accept that maybe it wasn't as delightful as he'd dreamed.

"Sure, Bubble," His grandmother chuckled. "It's gotta keep the humans warm somehow, right?"

Luca thought about her answer then. That must be why Alberto smelled so honey-sweet. Nice, he corrected himself. Alberto smelled nice.

But it was the sun dripping all of that sunshine and ardor into Alberto's pores, through the tiny dark spots that spanned across his cheeks and shoulders. Little dashes of the sun. But if he thought over these things too long that fiery sunshine would melt his insides into a pitiful pool of need to see him again and Luca decided not to ask her anymore.

He was a good kid, after all. He didn't need these infectious ideas running through his head.

Luca passed by the herd of goatfish, all grumbling and surrounded in swarms of their own bubbles. He swam by Giuseppe, clearly the favored one, and gave him an endearing pat before glancing over his shoulder. It seemed as though his grandmother had distracted Luca's parents for the time being with some obscure task that he knew granted him a few hours of precious alone time.

He'd dreamed of seeing The Surface before. Herring, he'd actually tried. And once was all it took. A brief sequence of minutes that felt as if they were hours, fluttering toward the crystal glittering skin of the ocean above him, only to doubt his choices and duck back down. But the edges of his mind persisted, Luca the Curious Fish, the one to get caught.

And his mind continued to nag and nudge him toward the parts of the farm that were cooler, left a bite on his scales as he hurried to find that same spot as yesterday. His surroundings flooded again as he was flanked by the jutting sections of the island below the water and into a cave opening leading to the same pool as before.

Luca's eyes fluttered shut past this point. Though it was childish, he feared by whim that a chunk of ominous island rock were to come undone and shatter on top of him, leaving him squished flat in the sand like some scaly water anole scattering for purchase. Luca let the thought, much like his other more intrusive ones leave his head as the temperature lifted around him. His face welcomed the sunlight drifting from the pool above along his fins and closed eyelids.

In a recess of the rock Luca had hidden the purple wooden stick (with the feather-soft bristles that, once Alberto had left, Luca ran along his cheeks until his scales were an embarrassing blue) that Alberto had so kindly gifted him, wedged between the sharp spaces so it didn't float away. He smiled at it sitting there, patiently waiting like he'd been, for a slice of attention.

"Hello again," Luca murmured in greeting to the paintbrush, tracing one finger along the smooth edge of painted wood.

The beams of light flickered along his teal scales, making the darkness of the pool shine pleasantly. But a flash of color even brighter than the sun passed across Luca's dorsal fin so harshly that he yelped aloud in the water and shrunk back from the odd thing. Was it lightning? Another thing Signora Paguro had cautioned him over, something painted quite scary from her perspective in his mind.

But the sun was there, so surely it wasn't lightning.

But even still the flashes appeared once, and then again, with a subdued pop from being underwater.

Wiping the back of his neck, as if the action were to rid him of the itchy feeling the blinding flashes sent along his scales, Luca looked up.

There was Alberto, his silhouette distorted along the water, gripping something bulky in his arms that appeared to be the object of Luca's discomfort.

/ / /

"W-Woah! Hey! What are you doing?"

Alberto leapt back from the mouth of the pool but the boy had swiped for Massimo's polaroid camera. He clawed for it in Alberto's quavering hands, while Alberto was still stunned by the fact that the creature had actually jumped up from the water and attacked him.

Well, he attacked the camera.

He tried to attack the camera.

"What is that thing?" The boy growled, his brows pulled low and angry while it seemed like above water the color of his eyes dimmed to a dark yellow. But still as striking. He had managed to knock Alberto down to the rocky ground where he felt the film in his back pocket crush under the combined weight. Oh hell. That was his last cartridge.

"It's--It's my father's camera! So you can't have it!" Alberto choked out.

"Why does it hurt like the sun?" The boy questioned, his grabbing motion and bared teeth bringing to mind a raccoon. Alberto tried to peel the creature's body from him but it was no use, he had Alberto's legs pinned with his tail.

"What are you talking about?" Alberto shimmed under the boy's weight, taking in a generous amount of air so he didn't gape at his assortment of teal and blue scales inches from his heaving chest, dripping salt water and something slimy. "I was just taking pictures for reference."

"Pictures?" The boy cocked his head, losing some of his fire. Alberto offered a shaky smile, using one hand to press into the ground to wiggle free. The creature got the hint and his vertical pupils widened in shock and wonder. He rolled off Alberto's lap, deflating. "Oh! Sharks, I'm really sorry. I don't know what got into me...I just hate that thing."

"The camera?" Alberto wiped his hand on his shorts, now soaked in water, and scooted a little ways from the boy. He waved the camera around in the air for effect, perhaps a bit carelessly, and the other boy flinched. "This takes pictures of things. It's cool!"

"Well, why were you taking picture things of me?" He said slowly, tasting the new words.

Under the sun Alberto was distracted by the creature's scales, so opalescent on the surface with that deep undertone of his true teal color. His dorsal fin, with no buoyant water to trail along, was flopped to one side casually. Alberto avoided looking at his tail, because this thing had a tail like an animal but could converse as lightly as any kid playing soccer by the fountain.

In short, he was beautiful. But also was a sort-of-fish and Alberto worried he was going to turn into someone's next fillet for the dinner table if he cooked out in the summer heat for much longer.

"Uh, aren't you going to dry up or something up here, sea monster?" Alberto pointed to the droplets of water quickly drying up on his scales.

The boy blushed, but from the sun's rays it wasn't as brilliant as it was the day before in the water. "It's Luca. And I think I'll be fine." He tapped the space below the fins on his cheeks, to some hidden part of his scales that Alberto was too shy to inquire about.

"What's Luca?"

The boy wrinkled his snout. "I'm Luca. That's my name, you catfish. Luca Paguro."

Alberto chuckled and let the polaroid camera rest beside him on a soft tuft of grass. "Catfish? Ouch. You know, I think I know someone who actually looks like a catfish."

Luca grinned his pointy teeth at him. "A real catfish? Can I see him?"

"Oh..." Alberto pulled his knees closer to his damp tank top and frowned at the puddle of water beside him. "I don't know about that..."

"Well, why not?" Luca questioned. He pointed to Alberto. "The Surface isn't so bad. I met you! And...And-" He tried to form the right words, looking so cute with his yellow eyes scrunched close. "And what are those things?"

Luca had abandoned his previous statement and crawled over to Alberto's travel hutch of paints, now propped open for him to admire. Alberto watched in silence as Luca tentatively stuck his webbed hand into the box, staring with raw curiosity at the shiny metal tubes of acrylic and the ceramic saucer serving as his palette.

He picked up Alberto's newest tube of red, examining the plastic top, unbroken.

"That's my paint box. I was thinking of doing a portrait--"

Luca turned the tube of paint so it was horizontal in his claws and took a bite from the top.

"...Of you," Alberto finished, shoulders slack. Luca's eyes flung back open when the pressure sent a burst of red acrylic across his fingers and into his mouth. He dropped the tube with a cry, teeth now stained an alarming red.

"You're not supposed to eat it," Alberto commented. He picked up the ruined tube with Luca's teeth marks still in it and set it in a corner of the box. "Here."

He handed over a towel he'd brought to clean his brushes so Luca could clean his face. Luca blinked wildly at the towel in Alberto's hands, not knowing what to do with it, so Alberto took the liberty to dip the cloth into the pool and wipe the red paint off his scales.

"That feels kind of weird," Luca whispered, eyes flickering up to the muscles lightly moving in Alberto's arm as he worked. His skin turned blue again, the odd freckles spanning along his bright cheeks flushing.

"Well next time don't take a bite out of my paints. Besides, it's for painting, obviously. Not food."

Luca sat on the back of his legs and quietly watched Alberto roll the cloth up and set it in the grass. "Can I paint? It looks like fun."

Alberto's eyes widened and bit his lip to hide his excitement. He fished inside his bag for a piece of paper for Luca then a small flat canvas for himself.

"Sure, I guess," He brushed it off. "Just don't get upset if it doesn't look like my paintings. I'm pretty good."

Luca snorted but eagerly snatched the paper from Alberto. He set it on a drier edge of the pool and slid back into the water. Spinning back around, he flashed Alberto a grin and held up the paintbrush he'd taken the day before, the wood soaked and paint chipping in places from water damage.

"I don't think you can paint with that, buddy," Alberto tsked. "The wood's probably rotted."

Luca's face fell and he jammed the paintbrush back into the crevice from before and scanned Alberto's palette he'd been depositing small portions of paint onto, grumbling.

Alberto started to paint and Luca just sat there watching, confused. Luca hid his face below the edge of the rock and used his index finger to dip into the well of green paint, then placed it on the paper. He let out a tiny noise at the discovery, now smearing globby splotches of forest green all along the page.

"Look Alberto!" Luca tugged on Alberto's toe to get his attention. He looked up from his canvas at Luca's paper. It wasn't much, but the look of pure glee on Luca's features was enough for Alberto to reach out and gently brush the fins on his head, like Luca had done with his hand, and smile.

"Nice," Alberto said softly. Luca blinked at his hand touching him, retreating a little into the water in surprise, but he soon floated back up and was adding blues to his messy painting. Luca couldn't be much younger than Alberto himself, only sixteen, and there still hung a childish innocence to him that was because he was so sheltered.

He knew he could never take Luca back to Portorosso. It was a fishing town.

Full of harpoons, nasty blades, monster-fearing Portorosso.

#luca #luca movie #luca fanfiction #luberto #luberto fanfiction #luca 2021 #luca paguro #luca x alberto #luca and alberto #alberto scorfano #giulia marcovaldo #gay fish boys #disney luca

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pip-n-flinx · 3 years

Note

Ok. I need your mixed drink wizardry once again. I need a cocktail for Muriel Aslany, the anger-ball with trust issues who weaponizes paper umbrellas. She'd go for something with just enough class and just enough fruit that someone might raise an eyebrow, but would want it strong and mean. The drink, of course, requires a paper umbrella.

Aight so we're gonna drop some tiki cocktail tech on @swaps55

First, a disclaimer! I am not an expert on tiki drinks. I haven't practiced nearly as many of them. I've sat on this one for a couple of days trying to sort out my thoughts on this one.

The drink I'd want Aslany to drink is terribly impractical assuming the constraints of space travel/agriculture. Here we go anyway!

Chief Lapu Lapu:

This cocktail is served in a hollowed out pineapple and features a blend of light and dark rum, lemon and orange juice, grenadine and simple syrup. Served, of course, with a little umbrella! It relies on balancing ingredients, and I honestly would have trust issues with this even at a dedicated tiki bar. The trick here for someone like Aslany is to request it made with 151, or overproofed rum. There are light and dark variations of 151 proof rums, and personally I'm personally partial to Plantation's O.F.T.D. 151 dark rum (I actually repurpose it to make my own coffee liquor, but that's a different post...) and there are plenty of silver 151 options available on the market.

I should point out that I want Aslany to order this because I just love the idea of Muriel walking around with a full pineapple in hand.

And now, for what Muriel Aslany would probably actually order!

151 Swizzle:

Crushed Ice, lime juice, Pernod (or other anisette I suppose), Angostura bitters, simple syrup, a dash of cinammon... But what gives the cocktail its name, and its signature kick, is Lemon Hart 151 demerara rum (though I've seen recipes that call for El Dorado 151.) after the cocktail is built in the tin cup, it is deliberately topped with more 151 proof rum to ensure the first few sips will sucker punch you straight into a - hopefully pleasant - buzz. This is easier to conscience for off-earth consumption because it doesn't require any fresh fruit (although fresh squeezed juice is ALWAYS better) and because it doesn't require Aslany to make any modifications to the recipe. Less likely to confuse bartenders, and more reliable no matter where an alliance jar-head finds themself.

Some notes before I drop my recipes for the peanut gallery to test at home!

One hundred and fifty one proof rum, 151, is a high enough alcohol content to be lit on fire (it's usually the secret behind flaming shots) and will knock you on your ass. Proceed with caution, it will burn out your tastebuds and overwhelm most anything.

For tiki cocktails in general, I highly recommend looking for some pot-stilled rum. As weird as it sounds, the funkier the better. This is because tiki cocktails play with huge, bright, intense flavors and you need to balance them with that in mind. Big, bombastic flavors are needed to combat the falernum, orgeat, grenadine, fresh citrus/pineapple/coconut, and anisettes like Pernod that are often found in this genre. Everyone's tastes will be different, but I encourage you to use rums that you wouldn't drink on their own for your tiki cocktail creations. Put it this way, I wouldn't put my friendliest aged rum in a tiki cocktail. Save that for neat or rocks sipping, or as a substitute for brandy/cognac whiskey/scotch in other drink recipes. This does mean my suggestions may not be your favorites, feel free to experiment!

Aslany's Lapu Lapu

1.5 oz Bacardi 151 or Rum Fire 1.5 oz Lemon Hart 151 or Plantation O.F.T.D. 2.5 oz Orange Juice 2 oz Lemon Juice 1 oz Simple Syrup or Gomme Syrup 0.75 oz Grenadine (use real pomegranate grenadine!!!!!) Shake in tin with ice, then strain into a hollowed out pineapple. Serve with a straw, and garnish with your umbrella (your choice of color, I recommend a light blue or something between red-pink for contrast with your pineapple.)

I'd recommend Bacardi 151 with Plantation or Rum Fire with Lemon Hart, but hey try any combination of dark and light 151 rums you can get your hands on!

151 Swizzle

1 cup Crushed Ice. (Crush it yourself in a cloth bag if you have to! You want this finely crushed.) 1 oz (fresh!) Lime Juice (I want to try 1 oz lime and 0.5 oz lemon on a hunch but haven't gotten around to it yet) 1 oz Simple Syrup (try Demerara? Seems like it would be better) 1 barspoon or 0.33 oz Pernod 1 dash Angostura bitters 1.5 oz Lemon Hart 151

to top:

0.25 oz Lemon Hart 151 dash of cinnamon

build in your collins glass. Stir til frosty, then top with the remaining rum and cinammon. Serve with a straw and an umbrella again, color your choice ;) gonna tag @ferusaurelius and @pigeontheoneandonly again because cocktails.

#tiki cocktails #mixology #bartending #alcohol #drink recipes #mass effect #would they be growing pineapples in space????#IDK man I just really want it to make it into the fic despite the fact that the 151 swizzle is just a better choice #151 swizzle #Chief Lapu Lapu

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prettywarriors · 3 years

Note

what are some of your favorite and least favorite magical girl raising project designs? and your thoughts on magical daisy just because she's my fav

Heck yes opinion time! But first what you asked for:

Magical Daisy Good. The yellows-browns-beige works really well with both the purple accents and the minty green hair. She has pleats distributed evenly through her design, and they work in tandem with both the ribbons and with the daisies through her outfit without it getting too busy. I like her detached sleeves with gloves, and I am a sucker for practical footwear on a MG (both for them and for possible cosplayers) I’m not Crazy about the. Pouch? Asymmetrical bustle? The thing off her waist on her right. But it balances with her off-center headdress and has the same small design on it so it get’s a pass. Her hair is simple, but I like it and I think it works for her A good design for an anime (if the MGRP anime had done really well, do you think we would have gotten an in-universe magical daisy episode?)

Other opinions under the cut

Haha only giving opinions on 3 girls? I’m reading Peaceful Days now so enjoy my speed thoughts on MGRP-Aces outfits.

But first Maruino deserves so much recognition because her use of cream and dark brown in place of white and black whenever possible, combined with her chibi style and general color pallet choices, is so good. I know I’ve talked about the LN look vs the anime looks here before, but some designs would just look not nearly as good if she didn’t know how to use colors as well as she does

MGRP:

Snow White- School uniform with an armband indicating she is someone who can help, but with flowers. It’s cute, it’s fairly simple compared to other mgrp outfits, I like the big flowers on the sides of her outfit over the ones hanging from the ribbons off her back. A solid look, but not a winner in my book

Ripple- This is going to come up with quite a few of these designs but I like basically everything but the body. I like the sleeves, the geta are great, love the one ponytail with big shuriken, scarf brings great contrast to the rest of the color scheme, bikini top with ribbons attaching it to a wrapped skirt? The skirt feels like this could have been a keikogi but the top is almost wholly unadorned and overall I wish this was a better look than it is

La Pucelle- Great idea, meh execution. Knight And Dragon? Love it! The navy blue for military feels with armor and goes well with the gold&cream&brown. Her horns are cute! I like the tail- it fits the character and isn’t too large or distracting. Once again I like the arms-neck-legs but the body is. a bikini with a drapery bit off the top and the tabard. The tabard is good! But why is she in her underwear? Give pants???

-And yes I know swimsuits cover just as much as underwear but this isn’t a swimsuit and it’s a lazy way to cover what needs to be cover and not even try to make that area of a design more interesting. This doesn’t apply just to LP or even MGRP I have seen comments on this before and unless the character’s outfit is an actual bathing suit, try harder.

Top Speed- A wife. A halloween wife. God I lover her personality and her outfit is definitely on the simple end of mgrp outfits but very fitting. The colors are great, love the hat and the tall boots, the cape stripes might be my least favorite bit? But I feel if it was solid it would be too bland so. And the end of her braids looks like a broom. I love her. Good design.

Ruler- I hate this. But why..... Is it the navy blue is a singular piece? I liked Ripple’s scarf for contrast but maybe this piece isn’t large enough? Her head things look like two crowns on the sides of her head and their weird and. Not awful? But not great. The cape looks chunky at the end? In a weird way? Or is it the drop waist on the top. I know I don’t like the butt fluff. I do like the shoes&leggings? pants? And her crown and hair stars. bad/10 for reasons I can not place

Swim Swim- Techno demon in the accessories, pure schoolgirl in swim class in the torso. The white suit+black devil wings is good as character contrast , and her....hip...discs? have demony tails which is good, but the big headphones and floating disc things work great with the shoes but not with the rest of the outfit? This is two outfits in one but not in a good way. Pick a lane.

Minael&Yunael- They might not be super-murders but boy that’s their only redeeming trait. I do not like them as fictional people. And outfitwise? Meh. I like the chat balloon halos, and the one wing look for the two of them works, and again the use of Navy rather than pure black is good, but the old fashioned dress with a bib is. boring. and not in a simple way just not interesting? Like I think if the stiped bib thing was removed it might look better? This also might be a secret hatred of mine as I think I have figured out from a later outfit. For now- boo

Tama- Are you spotted or brown&white? Her fluff bits and legs say spotted and her ears and tail and paws say brown and white and I wish we’d pick a lane? Also not crazy about the butt-length cape. I do like the bone clasp and the hood, and you have to have big ol paws for a dog girl. She’s. Fine. Just fine.

Nemurin- Her hair clouds say magical girl, the rest says generic cute sleepy anime girl. I like the socks, and her hair, but she’s not that interesting? Don’t get me wrong she’s cute but the bulk of her design is Big PJs. The candy clasp is nice as a sweet dreams thing? Sorry Endo

Calamity Mary- Titty fur. Boots with spurs and arms with fringe and mini cowboy hat are all good, and her skirt is. A little boring but fine. But the best part of her top is the sheriff badge. If we’re committed to evil=slutty=evil, you can still make a more appealing lewd top than a bikini over some fluff. Let sluts be sexy? Stay dead bitch.

Magicaloid 44- Elementary schoolgirl but robot. Bulky but in that smooth modern look. I’m a sucker for hair horns, even when they’re metal or plastic, and she just has a good silhouette. But her colors could be better? I will say her mn art has her skirt look like a skirt, and the anime said This Is A Solid Hunk Of Plastic/Metal and I think that works better. Swap her dark brown bits for a navy to go with her skirt and i think i’d be out of complaints

Sister Nana- There are multiple MG nuns. What’s up with that. Good use of sexy belts for theme consistency, but I with there was more red up top or her shoes were a different color. 9/10 for dirty nun

Weiss Winterprison- Girl I love you why is your outfit not good as a MG look or even really as an outfit. Your practical looking boots have heels, your colors are boring and messy, you have like. belts but not enough for them to look interesting? Gurl I love you do something with this bland mess.\

Cranberry- ‘I love this’ I say threw clenched teeth. I love green and flower motifs, and I like boleros and big sleeves. But I’m not that into this? I think it’s that her top looks like a nice shirt that’s a little long and then she. Just has leggings on and a big belt. I guess the buckle is like. A big thorn? And i’m into tunics with leggings but this doesn’t? do that in a way I like? The red-blue roses are a nice contrast to the green and creme but i just. I have no idea I want to be in love with this and it’s Middling for me. More elf ear’d MGs pls

Hardgore Alice- I love alice, I am a fan of edgy spins on stuff(sorry), so I’m a bit disappointed? And I think it’s just the colors? I love the checkered pockets and the striped stockings and bows and the headband and apron and bloomers and dress shape and even her eye bags (mood). I guess I just wish there was more of the off white-maybe for the full apron? or even the bloomers? I love you please re-color.

Restart:

Keek- This bitch might win it for worst look. I like her hair color, and giant sleeves, and the cd and rubix cube are nice touches for an outfit, but what outfit. A bikini top and slightly-larger-than-usual underwear style bottom with a big plate of metal? Are those supposed to be shorts??? Points for normal shoes but take off the coat and this is nothing. And the coat isn’t much to begin with. 0/10 might take home the gold

Clantail- I wish the apron part was gone? But the colors are good tho I do have a question about the horns- they’re cute but if she can change her lower body to other animals they won’t always fit very well? And her necklaceuhhh tattoo? is odd. But she’s fine

Pechika- Good colors, like the feathers, I wish the chef’s coat had a different fit but it’s good. Could go without the tail. Also has some almost military feeling elements like the hair cross and the? epaulets? This is a spats stan account

Rionetta- Great use of colors, patterns, ribbons, has a specific look that works great for the doll dress. Hell year ball joints and weird eyes. Wonderful. I hate it. No fucking clue why. Like with the angels maybe? I hate strips? Except I don’t. Maybe just in specific situations? Or I hate multiple patterns? Rio looks good. I just see her and go into a rage.

Nonako Miyokata- A very good look overall, just not super Magical Girl? Definitely magical miko but. The yin yang accessories feel a tad out of place- replace them with existing themes or add them in elsewhere

Magical Daisy- Still good

Nokko- This is just a maid. A cute maid with a weird choice of hair decor, but I think she got her outfit at the same shop as Milkit. *shrug*

@Meow-Meow- boy I hope I didn’t just at someone for real. I like her colors and tail, poofy detached sleeves are good, her top works with the open dress. I’m a fan of detailed edging on a piece, and it works with the pattern. I’d’ve liked to see more of the bells that are on her wrists? I guess she had a racist accent originally though which yikes.

Genopsyko Yumenoshima- A great sentai outfit, love the helmet ears and the tail. Not good as a magical girl outfit unless we fully dissolve the mg/sentai line. But the suit is great, slightly oversized gloves, and retro lasergun that doesn’t even work? Yesssss.

Detec Bell- Fwuffy. Great hat, love the dress, a good use of a cape, simple but very good. I feel a feel some of the ribbons could be changed up but a solid if simple design.

Lapis Lazuline (2)- Cute starry tiger princess? I guess I’m a fan of navy and brown because i’m into it here too. Good use of the silvery details on the sleeves and dress bottom, and the links both at the cape clasp and on the boots. Really nice.

Melville- Bootleg Cranberry in every way. I like her over-pants and sleeve-cape, but the weird bib-top under the bikini top is a bad shape? Hair roses good and leg thorns do get a thumbs up.

Cherna Mouse- If the turtle gets it’s own distinct look, why is Cherna just baby+ hamster? The hood is cute, and I dig the boots which work with the shoulder things, but said things don’t go with the toddler one piece+cape. She reminds me of Moetan and that is a bad thing.

Pfle- Ohhh this bitch. I may have been reading these books but I have no damn idea what she is up to and I hate it. Love her eyepatch tho. Super cute throne-wheelchair and it continues the bird motif. Her dress is nice but not that interesting? Seems more generic old timey fancy lady dress than Magical. Honestly I could go for some mixing up of the colors here? The dress and hair and throne all are a bit too similar. Maybe make the dress wine?

Shadow Gale- I like her look but I don’t feel it says nurse as much as it’s supposed to? Her aces profile honestly gives Rue vibes. It’s very monochromatic but I guess that works for her. Big fan of her skirt, kindof with it went all the way around. Solid design

Masked Wonder- Who? I refuse to play person5 because it’s been overhyped but isn’t this one of them? Not awful as a phantom thief outfit, but doesn’t say magical girl phantom thief at all. I do like the roses on the belt and. garters? Kindof wish we’d loose the color on the cape because it clashes more than anything with the rest of the look

Akane- I like her long hair flower. But her samurai-kimono look doesn’t feel blended well enough imo and the colors are too over the place while still being bland.

Lake of Fire Flame Flamey- Hell if I know how she looks I just love typing that name

Limited:

Weddin- Good colors, a bit too busy? The chains+roses+lace doesn’t feel well balanced. But the flame and ankle chain are balanced because Maruino is good at asymmetrical details

Captain Grace- A pirate magical girl? Is she legit the only one from any main stream series? Well she set the bar high. The captain coat is great, multiple small anchors, the hat, and her skirt(?) is very cute. I guess the sole of the boots stands out a bit? But very solid (wait is that a tail? or a butt hook? :/)

Funny Trick- If Las vegas was a magical girl. Colors and silhouette are good, I’m just not vibing with this. sorry girl

Kuru-kuru Hime- Yiss more ballet themed outfits. Good colors, love the shape of the giant back bow. I could go without the big ribbon coming off the headpiece? It’s nice

Postarie- Buttwings! I love her hair shape, just. Not a fan of the orange and green colors? She’s a delivery girl but feels more marching band. It’s a good design, just doesn’t feel fitting? Great just not for her

Rain Pow- Now this is a sci-fiy look while still saying magical girl. The tail is yet another weird thing, and I could go without the permeant ring behind her, but the shape of her outfit is very good, and love the silly heart hair. Wish the gloves were a different color? But this is up there

Tepsekemei- Genie outfits being problematic isn’t something I can speak to, but this is a solid genie look with additions to feel different, specifically the lotuses. It’s good, and I haven’t seen flying turtles since love hina so. Good for her.

Mana- You’re not a magical girl. Maybe I just hate bibs? The hat is great and snake leg is fun, I wish her collar was actually smaller to stand out more? It’s a fine mage look i guess

Hana Gekokujou- Great use of hair color as contrast to a committed color scheme. A cute traditional bunny look. Not personally my favorite but it is Good.

7753- Big Coat! Giant heart braids! Consistent heart theme! It’s bland compared to a lot of the other outfits, and I don’t think her flat heart uhh hair? pieces? like rain pow? work as well with her. But I think she works well for a member of the resources department. Wait is her hat backwards? Amazing

Archfiend Pam- I’m mostly a fan of this. The top is great, it’s carried through at one hip, she has the weird arm guy to keep her asymmetry going on. I just wish she’d commit to either fur Or pleats as trim? Both is a weird texture choice

Pythie Frederica- This bitch took a while for her proper appearance. I love the horns on the hood, and the stars throughout work well. I really don’t care for her skirtdress though? It’s too long and in ribbons and feels almost jellyfish-y? I feel it’s supposed to feel like she’s standing in fire but that doesn’t work pass a glance for me

Tot Pop- Love hot topic. Her spiky ribbon is my favorite bit, and I’m a fan of oversized sleeves. A great mall goth look, not amazing as a magical girl look tho. The head decor feels most on brand for the genre.

Punkin- What if the three musketeers were murderous and royalty. I love the hair feather and dig the ruff, the cape honestly feels like overkill? The boots are great and I dig the pants. Once again, why tails. I know mahou-furbies has reviewed a lot of these girls with the same comment and she’s right. Pick red or blue for this look though.

Sonia Bean- Kindof busy, in a garbage way. Like her outfit is made of fancy garbage to make an old timey doll. Which is fitting. Love the dress shape. Less into the weird dangly poofs.

Jokers:

Princess Inferno- The whole princess line works well together. Quake has the least Team outfit but I feel all four work well together? Inferno’s bikini is a smidge above other tops with the fire shapes, and I like her hair, but I think she’s my least favorite princess.

Princess Deluge- Swirls and scales throughout? Armor? Gold jewelry? My biggest issue is the chain to the weapon because this is a really nice outfit.

Princess Quake- Why does your tail start in the middle of the back? I like her leotard and eye theme, and her head piece adds nice shape. Good asymmetry. shame she’s into children The hair gem is a fun touch

Princess Tempest- The apples are a weird touch? Good for color but weird as a theme? I love the leaves- honestly I’m a huge fan of the vaguely toga-y look. Are the apples supposed to be an atlanta thing? Her skirt could be a bit better but Nice

Prism Cherry- Princess of our hearts. What a color scheme. Her oversized dangly accents work well here I feel, and I love the skirt and the leaf looking ribbon behind the neck. I could do without the arm fluff, but the top garter for the skirt is a nice touch

Marika Fukuroi- My wife is a bitch and I like her so much. A much more vibrant outfit than most of the mgrp girls, the black is edgy but in a fun loud way. I love her skirt and every damn crazy flower. Her top is my least favorite with the smaller flowers connecting her top to her bottom and the frills that honestly are out of place. Great eyes

Styler Mimi- A fancy outfit that fits her theme, with a nice silhouette and simple color scheme. Ruined by the giant back powder puffs. Yes she would be fairly simple without those but they’re so garish and awkward. Good hair

Stanczyka- I thought her middrif was another hunk of plaster like the mask and now that I see it’s just skin with some stars :/ The whole head thing is good, and the fur is consistent throughout even if I’m not a fan of it. The giant sleeves are. weird. I want to like them but. Her swirly tiddys are a nice touch. The brown hair on the tail doesn’t fit

Lady Proud- For someone who lived for a lot of pages I do not remember her. Her leotard works with the sleeves to feel like an old timey dress and the way the cape is being held up to look like bat wings is nice. The green layer in her hair is an odd choice. I do dig the hair clips with the horns

Umbrain- Froggy slicker. ...Sakura did it better, the yellow and purple&red is a meh color combo sorry. I do love the candy additions for the ame(rain) ame(candy) play, and her umbrella is great. But once again I am confronted by a bib. Also her slicker is actually two pieces? Bad colors, bad body, good theme

Filru- I like the colors and the corset, and in theory the chunky knitting is very cute but I feel it’s at odds with the boots and corset. Make the whole thing chunky knitting- it’d be cute. The head doily also could be more on theme imo

Uttakatta- again, what did you do? giant overalls are good in theory, but the slits and the. bubbles? clear donuts. are just ugly. Honestly her whole look is not good, and a bubble theme has so much potential for cool shit :(

Kafuria- good use of colors, I’m not personally into the shape of her kimono as a mg dress, but the wings and the veil+such are nice

Grim Heart- this bitch. God her dress is a great shape. I think i’m not fully into her spade tail ribbons, but otherwise love? The flamingo is Silly but again as an alice fan, i do not care (ask me about kagihime for 10000 words of rage!)

Shufflin- the tiny bib haunts me but the big double sides apron card piece is a nice way to do the simple and versatile Card look. The hair is cute and i like the suit as a big piece behind the head

Aces:

Armor Arlie- chunky suit of armor. but Cute. as an armor fan in MG designs, even I think this is A Bit Much, but it has enough going for it that i think it’s a fun look

Bluebell Candy- once again Maruino kills it with using navy very nicely. A military vibe with the epilates and double breasted uhh skirt decor. honestly shocked the hat is center, and mm good hair happenings. A very nice design. still not into the weird fluff tail stuff

Dark Cutie- Great hair decorations, love the lunar details, seems to be a leotard over leggings? It’s nice. It’s not crazy grabbing or stands out that much in silhouette, but i do like it

Micchan the Dictionary- tying your coat around your neck is not valid, motarboards are not good magical girl accessesories, i personally have an owl vendetta, the red in her shoes appears no where else, and the shape of her dress is just weird. plus that hair is. not good. Oh wow. I might rank her lower than keek. oh Wow

Glassianne- this is just that alcreamie pokemon. i wish the exposed strawberry went all the way down instead of there being more icing along the bottom. she has a consistent theme and nice colors, i’m not not digging it

Uluru- said dog. 7753 and tama’s child. she looks warm but not super magical. why is she dog themed?

Sorami Nakano- gamer aesth. I could do without the hair paws, but the jumper is super cute, love the eyes and the hair tones, general color scheme, bandaid is a cute touch. A solid look.

Premium Sachiko- good colors, i like the cut of the sleeves/boots/dress, but her art has her legs blend together and that’d just the art but weird. nice use of four leaf clovers and horseshoes throughout for her luck theme.

CG Angel Hammer- I like the flowers and the bones tail/wings. The halo thing is. odd, and it’s hard to get a great idea of her actual outfit. weird hair choice, tiny bottom but at least it has some frills. Needs more art

Patricia- acab. great colors tho and I like the shapes for the shoulders and wrist, and the light theme. The bright blue ribbons and earrings stand out well. This is actually a really solid design.

Puk Puck- i hate this baby angel there’s too much to look at. Your bondage leg is weird! cute chest piece. you can’t have cloud swirls and drills for hair damn it. your halo also has a veil? fuck you. 6/10.

Best Outfits: Princess Tempest and Grim Heart Worst Outfits: Keek and Micchan the Dictionary and Uttakatta

#Anonymous #magical girl raising project #outfit discussion #mgrp #text #not fashion

21 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Fixed

masterlist

request guidelines

requests are open as usualllll

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

request: yes! i’m combining 2 slytherin!reader requests because they’re rather similar and i feel weird putting two nearly identical ones out, but i swear the storylines aren’t altered.

summary: draco has a teasing relationship with the reader--they playfully argue and go back and forth but never acknowledge the fact that there may be something more. draco notices her pulling back and becoming more reserved. he follows her out of the dining hall one day to find her having a breakdown over a dark secret.

warnings: breakdown (and not the dancing kind), if the summary didn’t already explain that. swearing and potentially suggestive argumentation. also ooc draco and i say “fuck you” to canon in this one

a/n: this is the first time i’m merged two requests together, so i’m feeling a little wacky but i hope it turns out to what you guys wanted! i’m so so lucky to have readers. i’d love any comments that you may have on my work, even if they’re constructive criticism!

music recs: peach pit is what comes to mind but i’m listening to scary stories as i write this lol because i live on the edgeeeeeee

word count: 2,924

Y/N was an organized girl, no doubt about it. So organized, in fact, that she never lost anything, and she most certainly never lost track of her wand.

So when she noticed in Charms that her wand was not stowed away in her cloak pocket, she immediately knew who did it.

Without even as much as a hello, Y/N strode over to her “friend” and fellow house member Draco Malfoy and shoved her hand into his pocket, wiggling it around.

“At least buy me dinner first.” Draco had started at the sudden sensation, but once he smelled the perfume of the witch behind him, he knew exactly who it was, not bothering to give her much of a reaction.

Y/N fished around his pockets for a bit before grabbing his shoulder and yanking him around.

“Where is my wand, Draco? I know you have it.”

He smirked evilly down at her, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you do!” She pulled him towards her by his green and silver tie, trying to look as menacing as possible. “I swear to god, Draco, I’m gonna hex you into oblivion if you don’t give it back.”

“With what wand?” He laughed. “And let’s be real here, Y/N, you wouldn’t anyways. You love me too much.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew red at the suggestion.

“As if, Draco! Give me my wand back, or I’ll throttle you with my bare hands!”

“Ooh, kinky.”

She let go of his tie, shoving him away. Who was he to suggest these things to her? He’d never been interested as long as she could remember--no matter how many subtle hints she’d dropped, he remained oblivious, instead choosing Pansy’s incessant fawning.

Pretending like it didn’t hurt when he was ignoring her was easy. Pretending it didn’t hurt when he was inches away from her face and fake flirting with her was a whole other deal.

“Give me my wand, you git,” she commanded, holding her hand out. Perhaps if she was animated with her hands, he wouldn’t notice her blush.

Draco raised an eyebrow, one side of his lip rising along with it.

“Ask nicely.”

“May I please have my wand back?” she spat, each word filling her mouth with venom.

“We could work on your tone a tad, but I guess I might as well,” he responded, nonchalant and ignorant of the searing look she sent him. Digging through his satchel, he retrieved her wand, pressing it into her hand.

Y/N sent him a syrupy sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. In the corner of her vision, she could see Pansy watching her with a sour look on her face.

She was never one to disappoint an audience.

“Thank you, Draco,” she cooed, taking a complete 180 from her previous demeanor. Throwing all caution to the wind, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

When she settled back down to her usual height, she noticed that his eyebrow was still arched, but his evil look was replaced with one of inquisitiveness.

“I knew you were in love with me,” he crooned.

“No, I’m just a big fan of charity work,” she shot back, spinning around and walking back to her desk.

It was, after all, just another Tuesday.

♥♥♥♥

“Are you still hopelessly obsessed with Draco?”

“Huh?” Y/N diverting her attention from her studies to what her roommate, Millicent, had just asked her. “Sorry, I was deep in a passage and didn’t catch that.”

Millicent rolled her eyes, crossing her legs on her bed.

“I asked, are you still into Draco? I remember you talking about him in 4th year when we were getting dates for the Yule Ball arranged.”

“Oh.” Y/N let her eyes fall back onto her textbook. “I don’t know, Mills. I think he’s kind of an arse. He totally knew that I was into him and asked Pansy instead.”

Millicent chuckled sourly at that.

“Yeah, he was kind of immature back then,” she offered, resting her chin in her hand. “But, I don’t know, don’t you think that you guys have chemistry?”

Y/N thought for a few moments.

“I can’t say,” she responded. “But chemistry doesn’t really mean anything if they don’t care about you, you know? I think he messes with me just so he can feel like I’m still on the hook.”

“How do you know that?”

“How do I know that he’s just using me?” Y/N rolled her quill over in her hands a few times. “I can’t say for sure, but I’m normally good at reading these situations and I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“So you’re saying that you do have hopes that he’s interested?” Y/N didn’t have to turn to know that her roommate was plotting.

“I’m saying that I really don’t have time to be worrying about it right now,” Y/N opined.

Before she knew it, a hand was taking her quill out of her hand and closing her textbook.

“Hey! You can’t--”

“It’s been too long, Y/N,” Millicent whined. “We need to have a good gossip, and now that midterms are over, we can catch up. Please?”

Y/N couldn’t help a smile from creeping into her stony expression. While she had had reservations about her roommate at first, she soon learned that they brought the best out in each other.

“Okay, okay, but I’m not making any rash decisions, alright?”

“And when would I ever let you do that anyways?”

They both erupted in giggles while Y/N allowed her friend to pull her onto the bed.

“So, for starters,” Millicent began. “I heard that Draco and Pansy are going through a rough patch right now.”

“And who did you hear that from?”

“Irrelevant. But if you care, Blaise, and Theo confirmed it as well. And I would’ve found out without their help...they’re acting weird. Pansy looks like she’s ready to slit his throat at a moment’s notice, if you haven’t been paying any attention for the past 4 hours.”

Y/N laughed nervously. Of course she had noticed...but she didn’t want anyone to realize how much she actually cared.

“Yikes, I hope they figure that out. Their parents are going to be mad if they break up, right?”

“No, probably not. His parents really want him to end up with a Greengrass...something about settling a deal from a few generations ago.”

“Oh.” Y/N swallowed any other hope that she had left. “That sucks for Pansy. I know how much she likes him.”

Millicent paused for a moment, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been feeling bad as well,” she said, her tone softening. “I’ve noticed the pain in your eyes whenever you see them together.”

“And it doesn’t help when he seeks me out to mess with me!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I try so, so hard to forget about him and pretend like he doesn’t matter to me, but he finds all of these ways to keep butting back into my life and it always works...”

Her roommate began rubbing her back, allowing the few tears being shed to fall in peace.

“You’re worth so much, Y/N,” she told her firmly. “And unless I’m wrong, which we know is impossible, I think he kind of likes you too.”

“I don’t think you understand, though,” Y/N whispered. “Why would I ever want to be with someone who thinks of me as a second choice?”

Millicent was silent for a few breaths.

“Yeah. Maybe his parents pushed him to date her, though? Maybe he has a good excuse?”

“I don’t know, Mills. I’m just not going to think about it anymore, alright?”

♥♥♥♥

Draco was sitting across the breakfast table from Y/N, watching her sip her tea, waiting for the moment to throw another comment her way.

The screech of owls interrupted his thought process, signaling that the morning post had arrived. A snowy owl landed gracefully next to Y/N’s plate, bearing a letter with a red wax seal on the back.

She shook herself out of her daydreams--she had been up late the night before cramming for an exam and had burnt through an entire candle. Stroking her owl, she whispered a genuine thank you and instructed it to fly on home.

Y/N picked up the letter, fingering the parchment. It was clearly from her parents--the wax seal bore the mark of her family’s crest. Confused, she ripped open the envelope and began skimming the letter.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

Her vision began to blur as she folded the parchment up, shoving it back into her pocket.

“Hey Y/N, what’s going--”

Before Draco could finish his sentence, she was already halfway down the aisle, moving quickly to the exit. He watched her go, wishing that he could follow but knowing that it wasn’t a good idea with the tension regarding Pansy.

It was high time to break up with her anyways--no reason to keep up appearances when he didn’t desire her.

♥♥♥♥

As the week went by, Draco noticed more and more changes in Y/N’s demeanor. She was eating less and spacing out more. Her skirt was wrinkled on Friday, something that rarely ever happened, and she was no longer sending him bitter remarks in response to his flirty ones. On Saturday, she stayed in her dorm instead of joining her friends for a day in Hogsmeade, something he had never seen her miss before.

Something was clearly wrong with Y/N, and for some reason, this twisted something in his chest more than breaking up with Pansy did. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her messing around in the common room, either. It was unnerving, really. The witch had no business worrying him like that.

So, when he passed by her during a free period and saw her walking ahead of him, he made the executive decision to finally do something.

“Y/N!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound. “Y/N, wait!”

She halted, turning around slowly. When she saw who had called her name, she stiffened and made to continue on her path.

Draco, anticipating such a reaction, had already begun to jog towards her, lightly pushing past the rest of the students going the same direction.

“Y/N! Please, I need to talk to you!”

She picked up the pace, but Draco’s long legs caught up to her as he slipped a hand into the crook of her arm, startling her.

“What do you wa--”

“Can I please talk to you? It’ll just take a second. I promise.”

Her expression was unreadable, but he could tell that she was considering her options.

“Fine,” she finally said. “What is it?”

“Not here,” Draco quickly said. “Somewhere private. The common room, maybe?”

“If you wanted to off me, I doubt anyone would notice if you did it right here,” Y/N said, waving her hand dismissively. “But if you would really like to talk there, then I guess I’ll comply.”

Without another word, Draco led her down to the dungeons, keeping his hand tucked in her arm, not trusting her to stick by him. It felt strange--normally he was the one holding his arm out, but then again, this entire situation was out of character for him.

Once they had reached the common room, Draco waved his wand and lit the fire, sitting down in front of the couch to watch the green flames lick the stone.

“Sit,” he instructed, patting the space on the couch next to him.

Surprisingly, Y/N did as she was told, folding her legs up on the couch and sending Draco a death stare.

“Get on with it.”

“I just...I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” Draco faltered. Playing therapist was not something he had experience with. “I’ve noticed you acting strange since you got that letter at breakfast and it’s making me worry. Can you just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it and we can be normal again?”

Y/N was silent for a while.

“You can’t fix this. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean I can’t? Just tell me, Y/N, please.”

Silence again...except for something else. Draco stole a glance at Y/N and was stunned to see the firelight illuminate tears rolling down her face.

“Oh, no, Y/N, what’s wrong?”

The question only made her gasps for air louder as Y/N curled herself into a ball.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “You should go. You can come back later when I’m calmer, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Draco murmured, bringing up a hand to steady her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll make it better, alright?”

“My parents are forcing me into an arranged marriage,” she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. “He goes to Durmstrang. I hate him. They offered my hand in marriage because they want his father to be more amiable to mine in this business deal, and since I’ve never been in a relationship, they think it’s the only chance I have anyways at finding a life partner.”

The sobs had stopped. Her tears fell silently now, staining the whites of her sleeves.

Draco himself had to process the information. Y/N, married to someone else? No, he never could’ve imagined that.

Without anything particularly useful to say, Draco just opened his arms.

“C’mere,” he awkwardly mumbled.

Y/N studied him for a few seconds.

“I’m going to get snot on your shirt.”

“I don’t care.”

With that settled, Y/N released her knees from her hold, instead crawling into his lap. He stroked her hair as she wept into his shirt and clung to him.

Oh, how this was embarrassing for her. She supposed that there was a reason why her parents were so desperate to accept an offer for her hand.

Draco suddenly stopped, moving his hands to tap her shoulder.

“Y/N,” he began, “Would they make you marry him if you were already in a relationship?”

She sat up, blowing her nose into her handkerchief before answering.

“No, probably not. Why?”

“Well...” He pondered for a second, wondering if he was really going to be brave enough to say what he wanted to. “What if I was in the picture? They wouldn’t care to pass you off to some random Durmstrang boy if you had a Malfoy instead, right?”

Y/N stared at him.

“Er... probably not. That’s nice wishful thinking there, Draco.”

“I’m being serious!” He wasn’t expecting it to go this direction.

“How do I know that you’re not joking?” she queried, scootching further away from him and trying to ignore the pain that flashed across his eyes.

“I let you cry all over my dress shirt,” he reminded her, motioning to the stains on his chest. “Do you think I’d do that for any girl?”

Y/N just shrugged, hiccuping once before she stuffed her handkerchief back into her pocket.

“I wouldn’t.” Draco answered his own question, reaching up to gingerly brush her hair out of her eyes. “I know it must be weird seeing me with Pansy.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even think about that. My disbelief was due to the fact that you’ve never been interested.”

Draco flinched.

“I don’t think you’re completely right there,” he said, his hand pausing to cup her face.

“Are you forgetting the Yule Ball ordeal? How you knew how much I liked you but you still went with Pansy instead?”

“You don’t understand,” he responded hastily. “I didn’t know--I was 14 and an idiot. I couldn’t tell if you liked me or not and I knew that she did, so I wasn’t afraid.”

“And so you dated her for another 2 years?” Y/N answered in disbelief, seemingly forgetting the fact that she had just been crying her eyes out.

“At first it was to make you jealous,” Draco explained. “But then Pansy’s parents began to expect a lot out of us, and I was waiting for the right time to break it off, and it just didn’t....ever come around.”

Draco jumped as Y/N smacked his shoulder.

“You’re an idiot,” she snapped.

“I know.” Draco gulped. “And I’m sorry about that, Y/N, I really am. Let me make it up to you. Owl your parents and tell them that you had forgotten to mention that you’re already in a serious relationship with me.”

He curled an arm around her waist, highlighting the fact that while she wasn’t lying on his chest, she was still nestled into him.

“Under one condition,” Y/N told him, an elvish glint in her eyes.

“Yes?” He reached up his free hand to boop the tip of her nose.

“What was that?!” Y/N jerked her face away from his.

Draco smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You were saying?”

Her mouth was parted slightly in confusion as her brain tried to recall what she was about to say.

“I--just don’t be a pill, Draco, alright?”

“C’mon now, when have I ever been one?” He smirked down at her, wearing the expression that he adopted whenever they teased each other in class.

Y/N was trying her hardest to stay composed, but a genuine smile fought its way onto her face. It only widened when Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Pulling away, he uttered the words that would lead to her lightly smacking him on the shoulder again:

“I told you I could fix it.”

final a/n: kindaaaaaaa mad that i took on this request at this point because i totally could’ve turned this into a series where the reader and draco don’t admit feelings this early and instead decide to “fake date” so both parents would be happy but i have a lifeeeee grossssss

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

Text

Enchanted - Adam Sackler (pt. 3)

OMG it feels like it took me forever to write this part and im so sorry for that but i’ve been so busy with school and just life in general, i barely get time at the end of the day to even start my computer and do anything. but i finally finished this part and im so excited for the story to continue!! as always, feedback is welcomed!

ps: im so exhausted, i didn’t have time to revise it so it probably has a bunch of mistakes, pls forgive me!

series summary: You are casted as Giselle in the Broadway adaptation of Enchanted with Adam as Robert.

word count: 3.9k

Part 1 - Part 2

masterlist

Chapter title: Princess

First rehearsal on the stage is thrilling for you, because even without an audience, the place has a special energy that hits you right at the moment you walk out. There’s no real set just yet, only a few props to signal where things will be placed once the designers are done.

Today’s walkover is about the date scene with Clyde aka prince Edward and you are excited to put your dancing shoes aside for just a little while, even though you know once this rehearsal is over you’ll have one with Matt and Adam for the ball scene, your absolute favorite. Trevor explains how he envisioned the scene to go, with the moving and changing set to make the audience feel like the two of you are walking through the city.

Working with Clyde has been the easiest so far. He is a genuinely nice and caring person, who obviously tries to put one hundred percent into everything he does, making it a real pleasure to work together with him. He definitely has the looks to play a prince, tall, tanned with a charming smile and luscious curls that bounce with every movement he makes with his head. You keep thinking about how he is basically what you would say to be your type, inside and out and you are actually surprised you haven’t fallen for him the moment his hand touched your waist. You like to think you’ve grown enough to contain your emotions.

“Have you had any costume fitting?” he asks as the two of you stand on the stage, scripts in hands while Trevor is discussing something with his assistant.

“No, but Misha has sent me a few previews. Have you?”

“Yeah, I had one yesterday. Can’t wait to step on stage in tights,” he grins making you chuckle.

“There’s no prince without tights.”

“Definitely,” he nods. “Anyway, your vocals are extremely on point.”

“How do you know?” you ask narrowing your eyes at him. You haven’t had any vocal lessons together, just solo ones.

“Cynthia showed me a recording last time, I was trying to learn the harmonizing and it helped to hear you too.”

“Oh,” you nod. “Well thank you, I’m sure you sing just as well too.”

“I’m trying, but no doubt you’ll be the star,” he smirks and you feel a blush warming your cheeks.

Rehearsing with Clyde feels like when you and Lora used to hang out in high school, just goofing around while trying to get your homework done. It’s productive, because you do what you are supposed to do, but you also keep making each other laugh with the constant joking and messing around.

After rehearsals you decide to check out the canteen for a late lunch together and it’s a suitable choice since your dance rehearsal with Adam starts in an hour so you have to stay around to be there in time.

“You can’t be serious,” you gasp, watching him dip his pickle into mayo.

“It’s a delicacy,” he chuckles before taking a bite and you actually feel yourself shiver.

“Oh my God, you are a psychopath!” you laugh shaking your head at him.

“Nah, I just have a sister who ate some really weird shit when she was pregnant, and I tried some out. This one turned out to be pretty good.”

“My statement still stands. Psycho,” you joke.

When a familiar tall figure appears you spot him right away even from just the corner of your eyes. It doesn’t take long for Adam to spot the two of you since the canteen is not big enough to make it hard for anyone to see who’s really there.

“What a coincidence!” Adam cheerfully greets you standing at the table. Clyde hops to his feet as their palms meet and they do that typical half-hug thing men always do. Then his eyes wander over to you and you let a smile take over your lips.

“Hi Adam, ready to dance?” you ask as he snatches a chair from the table next to yours and he sits down.

“I was born ready! Hope your feet don’t break easily,” he jokes and you just shake your head chuckling.

“It’s not fair you two get the pretty dance while I’ll be in the background in tights,” Clyde sighs, but you know he is just furthering the joke.

“Clyde is not too excited about wearing tights, as you can see,” you explain to Adam who understandingly nods.

“I’m just saying, that out of the three of us,” he says gesturing around the table, “I’m definitely not the right one to wear tights on stage.”

“You’re right, I have nice thighs,” Adam nods and you can’t help but start laughing loudly. Somehow the image of him wearing tights is just so absurd you’d really love to see it.

Clyde sticks around for a little longer, the three of you having a nice conversation, a normal one which is surprising given the fact that Adam is present, but maybe this is the proof that he can be normal sometimes too. Then Clyde needs to leave and once he is out of the canteen Adam turns to you.

“Clyde wants to fuck you,” he simply says and you almost choke on your apple juice.

“Excuse me?” you manage to get out between coughs.

“What? Did you not notice how hard he was trying?”

“He wasn’t trying, he was just being a nice, normal person. You could try it,” you grimace at him. So much for being normal for once.

“Oh come on! I bet he’ll nut tonight thinking about you.”

“Would you stop unloading your dirty fantasies on me? Not everyone is as kinky as you. Most people don’t make a whole film about their relationship filled with all the sexual details.”

“Holy fuck, you watched the whole film!” he gasps happily and you immediately regret opening your mouth. You really should have thought about what you say. “How did you like it?”

“Honestly, I have no idea how you got away with making it, if I was your ex I wouldn’t have let you make it.”

“She saw it.”

“I bet she loved it.”

“She loved it when it happened in real life and I didn’t lie in the film,” he shrugs and the blush is back on your cheeks as you think about everything you saw in that film. The most intimate moments of a quite passionate relationship were revealed right in front of you and if you are being honest, you felt like part of it by the end, no matter how disturbing it was to see Adam in such scenes.

“I’m actually surprised you watched it.”

“Why? You were nonstop bugging me to watch it.”

“Yeah, but I thought you wouldn’t.”

“Well, I did and the trauma can’t be undone now,” you give him a look and checking the time you see that if you don’t leave now you’ll be late and Matt will be furious at the both of you.

You manage to dodge any further questions about the film as the two of you head for rehearsal, though you can tell he is curious about what you really think. It was definitely not a good idea to bring it up right before rehearsal, because now you have to get through 90 minutes pressed up against him, dancing to an incredibly romantic song, staring dreamily into each other’s eyes. Not ideal.

The song is critical. Not because it’s that bad, but because you are a real sucker for the kind of music in movies that could make you cry because they are so perfect for the scene. You’ve seen the movie way too many times and dreamed about dancing with that one person, but you never thought you’d actually dance to this song with someone and that person is now Adam.

It’s all fun and games when you are just learning the basics, not even touching, just standing in a line with Matt in front of the mirror and dancing like you have an imaginary partner. You keep peeking at Adam in the mirror and he is not that bad, in fact, he is doing great so far, you don’t know why he said he is not a good dancer.

“Okay, ready to combine?” Matt claps his hands, wiggling his eyebrows as he takes a step back, giving the two of you space to get close.

You hesitantly turn to Adam who closes the distance with one long step, standing right in front of you. Looking up at him you remember Lora’s comment on his height when it will be like to kiss him and you quickly furrow your eyebrows trying to get rid of the thought.

“What’s the look for?” Adam smirks down at you, tilting his head to the side gently.

“Nothing,” you purse your lips.

Matt helps you find the right position, Adam’s palm feels warm on your back and you suddenly wish your shirt was a bit thicker, covering you better. You feel his defined muscles under your palm on his shoulder and your eyes linger a little longer at the way your hand gets lost in his hold.

You first try it without the music, mostly both of you staring down at your feet to make sure you are doing the steps right and Matt gives you time to adjust, but you can’t keep your head down forever.

“Alright, let’s make a try and this time try to look into each other’s eyes at least half the time,” Matt requests and you bite into your bottom lip, trying to control your nerves. This is just dancing with Adam, the weird guy who made a kinky film about his past relationship, remember? He is weird!

But he is so tall and his eyes are so dreamy and his hands are…

“Okay, five, six, seven, eight!” Matt’s clapping interrupts your thoughts as you start the choreography again.

You have to watch your feet at first so you know you’re heading in the right direction, but a few steps later you force yourself to bring your gaze up and your eyes meet his.

It just hits different. Being so close to him, feeling his touch on your back and palm, you suddenly feel a strong urge to run your fingers through his hair and you almost do it before you tell yourself to behave. There is just something in him that makes your whole mind stop working properly even though you have a pretty strong opinion about him and the kind of man that he is.

For a spare second you even forget to breathe as you are staring into his eyes and there’s a feeling in your guts that you just can’t identify and before you could get further in this sensation Matt’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Amazing, this will look fantastic!”

You force a small smile to your face as you look at the choreographer and he brought you back to reality just in time.

You try to lock this feeling up in the remaining time so you don’t embarrass yourself with something. The last thing you need is to say something that gives away the conflict you are having in you.

“You’re always so fast to leave!”

Adam’s voice stops you when you are already out in the hallways, ready to leave and stay unnoticed, but that last part apparently did not work. Wrapping your hands around the strap of your bag you turn around and see him heading in your way with long steps, his hair flowing with him.

“Why should I be here without getting paid for my time?” you tilt your head with a half-smile and your comment makes him laugh.

“Good point. Do you have to be somewhere?” he asks catching up with you and now you are walking towards the exit side by side.

“Apart from my bed? Not really.”

“Great, then let’s get a beer or something.”

“It’s not a suggestion or an invitation, he states it like you’ve agreed on it weeks ago and you find yourself being quite okay with it.

Settling in a nearby place you order yourself the beer that’s been talked about, but Adam just sticks with iced tea and you give him a puzzled look for his choice.

“You said we are getting a beer.”

“Yeah, for you. I don’t drink.”

“What?”

“I’m a recovered alcoholic, I don’t drink,” he explains and now you have another piece of information about him that you put into your little Adam Sackler file in your head.

“So you are trying to get me drunk?”

“I’m not saying I don’t hope to have you spill something juicy about yourself, but I’m not forcing you to drink either.”

There’s a boyish smile playing on his lips and you roll your eyes at him as the drinks soon land on your table.

You find it amusing how fast he can make you forget about everything you’ve been thinking about when you thought about him, and make you see him just as this funny, carefree person who is sitting right across you at the table. He really is funny and it’s not just the beer that’s telling you this, he has a great sense of humor, he is especially talented in saying the funniest things with the straightest face, just staring at you like he is meaning every single word that leaves his mouth when you both know it’s all just bullshit.

“I’m honestly having a hard time figuring you out,” you sigh leaning back in your chair, fingers fidgeting with your second beer on the table. You’re definitely not drunk, just loose in the best kind of way.

“What’s so hard about it?” he tilts his head, genuinely interested in your answer.

“I don’t know, you are just… It’s like you have these different personalities and I can never know which is the real one.”

“What personalities?” he chuckles at your theory.

“One is this funny, normal guy,” you start gesturing towards him. “Then there is the kinky bastard who spanks girls and then there is this mysterious, serious side that I always see in rehearsals.”

“Kinky bastard?” he chuckles, clearly enjoying the discussion. “You’ll never let go of the spanking, right?”

“It just doesn’t fit into the picture,” you explain.

“That’s because we never had sex and we haven’t spent that much time together outside of rehearsals. I’m working there, of course I’m being serious! That’s just how adults act in serious scenarios. But the rest is just simply me, a mixture of the things you just said.

“So you are just a funny, normal guy with a hint of kinky?”

“Probably more than a hint, but yeah,” he nods smirking.

Spending time outside of rehearsal really helps you see Adam as a whole, the mixture of the sides you’ve experienced from him and you feel like it has brought him closer to you as a person, a colleague and maybe as a friend. You find him an amazing company actually, a great partner to discuss different kind of things. He has a somehow different view of the world than you, but you also agree on many things and this creates the perfect base for an actually interesting and enjoyable conversation.

“Stop!” You gasp laughing as you try to get Adam off a pole on your way home after he decided he is strong enough to hold himself up horizontally on it, but he is just probably getting close to knocking it straight out of the ground.

“They should make these more massive!” he grunts jumping back to the ground.

“You are massive,” you snort as the two of you leave the poor pole and continue walking towards your building.

“I am. In all means,” he smirks at you and you imitate gagging. His dirty comments stopped bothering you, he kept sneaking in something inappropriate into the conversation throughout the night and you just kind of got used to it. This is how he is, a kinky bastard, but at least a funny one.

“You know, we should hang out more often,” he suggests galloping ahead of you and turning to face you he does a funny dance move that makes you laugh.

“Oh yeah? So I should spend my little free time outside of rehearsals with the same person I’m with all day?”

“We are not together all day,” he protest and you just chuckle, knowing well he is right, you just felt like exaggerating. “You didn’t have fun tonight?” he asks as he returns next to you, walking side by side.

“I did.”

“Great. Then we will spend more time together,” he nods and it’s not a suggestion anymore, he is stating it like the most certain fact ever.

You don’t protest.

Sometimes rehearsals are like one big chaos, especially when everyone is present on the stage, all dancers and actors with the production staff, but there’s no other way to rehears the big dancing scenes.

Today it’s the park scene again, you are wearing another flowy dress Misha gave you, that resembles to the one you’ll be actually wearing, Adam is dressed in dark jeans and a black shirt, nothing extra, and he seems to be enjoying that everyone around him is doing their absolute best while he has to do that one lifting and nothing else, just follow you around the stage.

Clyde is at the back, he has only a little stage time as the prince is looking for Giselle in the park, so beside Adam he is the other person who doesn’t have much to do.

“How do you know he loves you?” you sing with a bright smile and big gestures, grabbing Adam’s wrist as you pull from one place to another, dancers following around, the scene constantly changing around you to make it look like you are on the move. “How do you know he’s yours?”

You catch Adam smirking and you already know he is thinking about something dirty, as per usual. You do the lifting and you feel his hand smacking your ass when he puts you down, no one notices, but you shoot him a glare to which he just smirks again.

“Okay, amazing. Take ten, we’ll see the final part a few more times!” Trevor instructs when the music stops and people starts flowing off the stage.

“Stop touching my butt,” you tell Adam, the two of you walking towards the edge of the stage.

“I can’t, it’s just always in the way,” he holds up two hands innocently and you just roll your eyes at him.

“Hey, do you guys have any plans for tonight?” Clyde walks up with a bright smile as he joins the two of you, fingers fidgeting with the water bottle in his hands.

“I’m babysitting my niece,” Adam answers running a hand through his hair.

“You have a niece?” you turn to him surprised.

“I do,” he simply nods and it doesn’t seem like he is about to share any more details so you turn back to Clyde.

“I’m free.” “Wanna go for a drink maybe or something? I’m so done sitting at home when I’m not here.”

“Sure,” you nod and watch Clyde walk away smiling back at you.

“He is still trying hard to get into your pants,” Adam scoffs and you turn to him with a grimace.

“He is not.”

“Oh he surely is. I’m pretty sure he thinks this is a date or something like that.”

“It’s not a date.”

“Tell that to him, because the dude is keen on fucking you, princess.”

You eventually give up trying to convince Adam about your truth, and you also realize you don’t owe him a word. You know what this really is and that’s all that matters. Adam can think whatever he wants, that still doesn’t make it real.

“So you’re really going out with him, huh?” Adam comes up to you once rehearsal is over. You glance up at him nodding while you’re packing your stuff up.

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m telling you, he thinks this is more than just casual drinking.”

“So then what?” you sigh, confused about why he is so worked up by the thought of you and Clyde having a few drinks. “I’m single, he is a nice guy, maybe I also think of it as more. Is that not an option?”

He genuinely seems surprised by your answer and it tells you he clearly didn’t think of this version. Frowning a bit he tilts his head.

“So that’s your type?”

“Stop using that tone, please,” you sigh zipping your bag and heading to the door, Adam following you right behind.

“Okay, I’m sorry, but still, that’s not how I imagined your type to be.”

“You often think about what my type is?”

“I did a few times, yes.”

“Then stop,” you sigh stopping and looking at him. “It’s not like you have a word in it or something. If you hate the idea of me and Clyde going out so much, just come. He invited you as well.”

“I told you, I’m babysitting my niece. My sister would lose her shit if I cancelled.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do for you. Just stop thinking about it,” you shrug, clearly over it, but Adam is not on the same page.

“Cancel on him.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask with a puzzled chuckle.

“Because…” he is searching eagerly for the right words, his hands anxiously tapping on his thighs. This is a waste of time, you think to yourself.

“See you at the next rehearsal, Adam,” you sigh walking away.

Clyde is awesome. Clyde is exactly the person you imagined for yourself a little while ago, he is nice, funny and just overall a good person. You enjoy spending time with Clyde and you find him attractive, but…

But something is just off and you can’t tell what it is.

Sitting in a bar with him that evening you can’t stop thinking about that one thing that’s making you not fall for him even though you know you should be. Adam’s words keep repeating in your mind about how he is not what he thought your type would be.

Of course he is my type! You basically tell yourself defiantly, cursing Adam out for planting such thoughts into your mind. Stupid Adam!

By the time you and Clyde part your ways you are pretty sure this wasn’t a date which is a relief, but it still got you thinking why you are so against dating Clyde. On your way home you catch yourself pulling your phone out of your bag to text Adam and tell him you were right when you stop in your way in the middle of the street.

“Are you stupid?” some random guy growls at you who almost bumps into you. Looking up you mumble a short sorry before looking back down at your phone.

Adam was all you thought about all evening, you saw him in everything Clyde said and now he is your first thought and the person you want to talk to. He sneaked his way into all of your thoughts and this is starting to feel concerning.

Adam is not your type. He just can’t be.

Clyde should be.

Not Adam.

Right?

Right?!

general/forever taglist for Adam Driver

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Adam taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Adam fics!

@superdriver @siren-queen03 @holacherrycola90 @spencer-is-amazing @unusual-kindred-spirits @hailthemightywoecloud @holy-kylo-stars @kowalskibro-adamdriverblog @hurricanesunset @writerandee @luxury-0pps @prncess91 @malefoygal @zaahidahhh @filternotincluded @fire-in-her-veinz @emily-strange @ktellmeastory @grouchosgirl @tapismyforte @unusual-driver-paterson @beeblisss @septicvic97 @cackleifyou @gotiashley

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

#adam #sackler #driver #adam sackler #adam driver #adam sackler imagine #adam sackler au #adam sackler fanfiction #adam sackler imagines #adam sackler fanfic #adam sackler fiction #adam sackler x you #adam sackler x reader #adam sackler x y/n #hbo girls

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jincherie · 5 years

Text

fox rain | four

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 13.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop one on the angst train express!!! conflict, crying, hurt feelings and perhaps a little bit of a complex... also someone gets slapped (rightfully). what a chapter! • ☽ — notes: two months late LETS GET IT FOOOXXX RRAAAIIINNN !!! this shit HURTED. for maximum owies, I advise reading a particular intermission before this one uwu

— posted; 08.09.2019

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | four | next • —

Never in your life, have you ever truly entertained the thought of killing someone before now.

As though your stormy mood is a thick fog permeating the air and rendering it unbreathable, the students moving past you in the hall hasten to give you a wide berth. You’d appreciate it, if you weren’t so caught up in your half-baked murder plans that you didn’t even notice.

You’re a nice enough person, right? You’ve never gone out of your way to be mean, or bullied anyone—hell, sometimes you feel so bad about the current state of the earth that you walk around the park looking for litter to pick up. Being the stellar example to humanity that you are, you’ve managed to steer clear of—for the most part, also not counting these very stressful past few weeks—drama. In high school you managed to dodge the drama entailed by school dances, juvenile love triangles, and pretty much anything pubescent you can think of. You did your own thing, and generally most people took enough pity on your poor excuse of an existence that they became oddly endeared and protective of you, like they were adopting a small alien ball of slime that fell from the heavens and wheezed painfully with each breath. You’ve never had to face the cold, agonizing frostbite of betrayal, and you didn’t really ever expect to.

But now for the first time ever you have, and god does it suck. You woke up this morning like you had a hangover, head throbbing as though an iron ball was rolling from one side of your skull to the other in uneven laps, and your eyes were somehow a combination of dry and tight, swollen and moist— admittedly, you still kind of feel like that to a degree. You woke up sad, and angry and hurt, but thankfully Karma isn’t one to leave you stewing in any one emotion too long. What a benevolent queen you find yourself ruled by.

As soon as you settled down this morning with your flavoured coffee (the last sachet from your “depression days” emergency stash on the top shelf of the cupboard—you feel as though with all you’ve been through, you deserve it) and opened your phone like a fool to pass the time while your waffle (another comfort food from your stash) cooked in the kitchen, you were met with a very sudden and very stark change in emotional stasis. No longer were you a moody, depressed and sad sack of mouldy mashed potato—now you were a fucking livid sack of mouldy, mashed potato, who nearly snapped her fork in half from the sheer strength of her tight grip.

After all you’d learnt of Sera the afternoon previous, you shouldn’t have been as surprised to wake up to what you did. And yet, the second you laid eyes on that damn post it had taken you so off guard you’d nearly flown into a blind rage on the spot.

The gall, the absolute audacity of her to plead and proclaim that she was going to “fix this”, only to turn around and plunge another knife into your back by publicly announcing on the university forum she used to start all this that she is the author. This entire ordeal was already such a convoluted mess that even before this, she never could have truly fixed it—but she could have lessened it, made it more bearable. Yet she didn’t. And with her blatant choice to not only do the opposite but essentially plagiarise your damn poem and steal your unwanted, unintentional fame—you’ve never been so fucking furious in your life.

You’ve never considered murder before now either but you have to admit, the further onto campus you get and the more whispering and gossiping you catch about the “development” in the mystery moon poem drama, the more appealing it seems.

All day, you have put up with this shit. All day, as you sit through class and then move from one session to another, you have heard people gasp and chatter and rant and rave about how Sera is the supposed author to the poem. You’ve heard them wax poetic about her and her “skills” that she doesn’t deserve and aren’t really for her, flattering comments about her ‘humble’, ‘sweet’, ‘sensitive soul’ character that you now know couldn’t be further from the truth. The combination of her betrayal and the injustice of the situation as you now find yourself in it are almost enough to break you into a soggy, emotional mess, but it seems the pure, unadulterated rage will be enough to feed your fire and keep you going for now.

You’ve been in such a state all day that you can hardly remember what it was like before you were angry. Depression? What depression? You’ve never heard of her. This must be what it feels like to be an Aries, you think. You almost feel invincible, and would if it weren’t for the looming cloud above you that rained angry droplets on your parade.

By the time you drag yourself through the day and your first tutoring session arrives, you feel a strange combination of emotionally exhausted and absolutely fucking wired. You’re still seething, of course, but it’s less of an in-your-face anger and more of a crazed undertone at this point. You attempt a smile when you enter the library and see Hoseok, but you mustn’t be very close to achieving it because a brief expression of fear flits across his features and he straightens in his seat. Oops, you forgot Hoseok is a scaredy cat. It seems you’ve accidentally activated his deeply ingrained and well-exercised fight or flight response.

“H-hey, y/n…. are you okay?” His concern for your wellbeing has seemed to override his initial fear response, and you feel a little touched amongst the angry bubbling of your insides. You try again to flash a smile, and this one appears to be a closer approximation than the last as some of the tension leaves Hoseok’s form.

“It’s a lovely day,” you say, fighting a twitch that’s trying to make itself known in your left eye. “But enough about that, let’s talk about you. What are we going over today?”

Hoseok is hesitant, pausing a moment as his eyes survey your seated form like he’s assessing whether it’s worth it to probe a little more. He seems to reach a decision and turns to his bag, pulling out his things. They hit the table with a tentative thunk, even the sound seeming cautious. He is treating you like a bomb that could go off at any moment and to be honest… you can’t blame him.

“I need your help brainstorming for a project that’s due in a few weeks,” he says, most of the fear having left his voice. “But I was wondering if we could practice essay writing some more, maybe timed? One of my exams is an essay.”

You wince for him, but nod and reach for your phone, unlocking it carelessly and trying to shove down the hot spark of anger that ignites down your spine at the post being the last thing you were looking at. With a little more anger than necessary, you flick that screen away and pull up the timer app. “Yeah, we can do that. We’ll split the session in half, I’ll start the timer.”

When you turn back to Hoseok, his gaze is on your phone as his brows draw together in a pensive sort of expression. Something you can’t decipher washes over his face in the next second, his eyes flitting to you and then to your phone before he’s sitting back, covering his momentary lapse with a bright smile. You’re a little bit suspicious but not bothered enough to really be wondering about whatever is going through his head.

You start the session, and given how previous ones have gone you’re kind of expecting him to fall into the same serious, broody mood as he has been. To your complete and utter surprise, however, Hoseok begins acting in his usual dumbass antics right off the bat. He’s more animated than you’ve seen him in weeks, making weird Hoseok Noises™ and laughing loudly, even poking you playfully every now and then.

You still feel a little stormy, but the longer the session goes on the more he has a smile fighting to be set free. It’s Hoseok, so of course that resistance doesn’t last long. By the time his session is drawing to a close he has you chuckling, a small smile on your face. He appears accomplished, grinning brightly himself before he catches sight of the time and it falters slightly. You wonder what could have incurred such a reaction before the realisation smacks you and suddenly the inklings of sunlight peeking through the clouds above your head are swallowed up again. Right, the whole thing with Jimin.

With the events of yesterday and this morning still fresh in your mind, the slight parallel hits a little closer to home than you’d like.

You don’t have to wonder if Hoseok has noticed the backtrack in your mood, because the expression of slight regret playing across his features tells you he has. He gives you a somewhat strained smile as he hastens to pack his things away, almost hesitating once done as though he wants to stay despite a deeper desire to avoid Jimin.

“I’m gonna head now, avoid some of the traffic on the way home,” he rambles, seemingly torn between meeting your eyes so he can smile and avoiding them since he’s fibbing and he knows you know. You squint at him.

“Yeah, that’s fine. Wouldn’t want you stuck in traffic,” you say, staring him dead in the eyes. “You live so far away after all.”

He lets out a nervous-sounding laugh, most likely at the way you’re looking at him, and slings his overstuffed bag over his shoulder. “Ahah… yeah.”

He lives about ten minutes away, the little turd.

You roll your eyes, giving the boy a brief smile. “See you on Friday, Hoseok.”

Somewhat relieved you’re not too mad, Hoseok grins and salutes, returning the sentiment before he’s hightailing it out of there faster than you can say “emotional constipation”. Well, now that you’re left to your own devices for the next eight or so minutes, you’re not really sure what to do. For a moment you sit there, staring in a somewhat disassociating manner at the dark, matte grey surface of the library table. It’s a little quieter than usual this afternoon, and it really allows you to zone out more.

You don’t really want to look at your phone, lest it appear like a request for more suffering to the powers that be. The last thing you want is them thinking you’re hungry for more shitty luck and going out of their way to give you more. So with your phone out of the question, you’re left with nothing to do for the next few minutes except sit and stare at nothing, and maybe transcend the mortal plane a bit while you’re at it. Which is what you do, and do so thoroughly that when a voice sounds next to you, you nearly scream and shit yourself.

“Uh, excuse me…”

“HOLYFUCK!” A strangled noise escapes you, body spinning to face whoever almost scared you to death. “DUDE, you can’t just—oh, hey Jungkook.”

The tall boy flushes as your face softens upon seeing him, the anger that resulted from your scare quickly fizzling away. Jungkook has a face that you’ve always found impossible to be angry at. It feels like being angry at a baby, or a puppy, or a little sugar glider with their big ol’ eyes and tiny paws. You just… can’t do it. You’re lucky he’s not aware of his power or else, like any other bastard adolescent male, he might use it to get up to no good.

“Oh, sorry! Sorry—I didn’t mean to scare you, I- I just saw this on the ground and came to give it to you. I think… I think one of you dropped it. I don’t know if it was you or Hoseok.” Jungkook does his best to meet your eyes, voice soft as he stumbles ever so slightly over his words. He can’t manage to hold your gaze for long however, before his is flying away and straying to the floor, and the ceiling, anywhere but you really. One of his hands rises to sweep through his long, inky curls and rub the back of his neck, the other occupied with gripping a notebook by his side.

You examine the object a little closer, quickly coming to the conclusion you’ve never seen it before in your life. “I don’t recognise it. Could be Hoseok’s though. I’ll keep it for him in case it is his. Thank you, Jungkook.”

The male freezes, completely disarmed for a moment as you flash him a grateful smile. He is so completely still in the seconds following that you can’t help but worry—did you look so bad just then that you shocked him into a coma? Do you have a pimple you don’t know about, glaring at him from somewhere humiliatingly obvious on your face? Is there something in your teeth??

"O-oh," Jungkook clears his throat, blinking twice and then giving his head a little shake as though to clear it. "It's no— It's no problem! I mean I kind of work here so... it would be irresponsible of me to leave it? I mean, not that I would, I—"

You can't help the brief chuckle that wrestles its way from your chest to escape unbidden, your hands reaching to take the notebook that he'd begun holding out for you not long after he started talking. In the process your fingertips brush his own and Jungkook lets out a sound that rings suspiciously like a squeak, hands yanking back so suddenly you almost drop the book before you can adjust your own grasp.

"Oop," he says, the tips of his ears beginning to glow pink beneath the tan of his skin. "Sorry, your next session is probably about to start. I'll leave you be."

Then, as abruptly as he'd arrived, he departs— for a second your wired brain almost tricks you into seeing a cloud of dust form behind him from how fast he flees, reminiscent of the cartoon characters from your childhood.

Well, certainly not the strangest interaction you’ve ever had with Jungkook.

Blinking, you adjust your grip on the book, fingers feeling like they’re slipping against the back for a moment before they finally stop sliding and the notebook remains firm in your hold. Weird, you think, but quickly dismiss it as nothing more than sweaty butterfingers—something you’re prone to getting when stressed. Which, lately, seems to be all the damn time.

You slip the book into your bag, setting a mental reminder to bring it next time you have a session with Hoseok so that you can ask if it’s his. You don’t actually remember what his notebooks look like (you’ve never really made it a point to burn them into your memory) so there’s a fair chance it could be his. In which case, you’re going to make fun of him for being a dumb doo-doo and dropping his book without even realising.

Considering Hoseok left before his session could even end, you were kind of expecting at least a few minutes of peace to yourself where you sit and dissociate by staring at the table again. You’re mistaken however, it seems, and you barely get to blink before there is a familiar set of footsteps making their way to your table and the subsequent light, melodic voice that sounds as they announce themselves loudly and clearly, as they usually do.

“y/n! Honey, I’m here!”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. He seems to be in a good mood. May the lord give you strength.

Jimin’s footfalls change and you look up just in time to catch him begin skipping over to where you’re seated at the table, arms swinging and a bright grin overtaking his face, almost making his eyes disappear. You stare at him, caught off-guard by his sudden sunny disposition (the past few sessions haven’t been awesome to him, after all), but he doesn’t stop grinning at you the whole way over. You think you catch Jungkook giving him a dubious look from the front desk, but can’t be sure before Jimin is right in front of you and blocking your view of anything else with his midsection.

“Hi y/n!” he greets again, body swaying slightly where he stands before he slings his bag off and moves to plop in the chair. “Isn’t it such a lovely day tod—oh? Oh!”

Torn from your inner musings of whether or not you should be concerned at Jimin’s sudden mood shift, your eyes whip to his hand where it’s reaching for the chair seat, plucking something from the surface before he suddenly turns and flops down as originally intended.

Jimin’s face has morphed into a picturesque expression of curiosity as he holds up what was between him and his seat; a piece of paper, barely a slip, folded neatly in half. The nosy male is quick to open it, clearly enunciating the words that are apparently scrawled across the inside.

“’You look pretty today’… Aw, y/n, you shouldn’t have !”

You roll your eyes so hard you almost feel the nerve pinch inside your skull. Jimin, of course, knows that you didn’t leave the note for him, but apparently today is one of the days he delights in your suffering.

You almost contemplate the effort of giving a response before realising that you don’t even need one; the male has quickly lost interest in the paper, leaving it discarded on the table top, and is now staring somewhat wistfully out the window with a slightly dazed grin. Okay, what? When he’d first rocked up, he seemed like he was buzzed and brighter than the sun, in one of those energetic top-of-the-world moods. Now… you’re rethinking that observation. If anything, he seems a little distracted.

And as your session with Jimin begins and proceeds, you quickly realise just how true this is.

Initially, you’d been slightly worried about Jimin rocking up with the same knowledge everyone else on this damn campus no doubt possesses after this morning. However, the further into the session you get, the more it becomes apparent that he’s far too off in space to have picked up anything like that. Not to mention, the more you think about it, the more you realise that you’re not even sure if Jimin even goes here. So would he know about all the latest campus gossip and drama? He is friends with Taehyung…

Ultimately you’re unsure, but cautiously optimistic that Jimin hasn’t seen anything to do with the poem or the post that was released this morning. You also figure that, given how distracted he currently is, he probably wouldn’t have had a chance to pick up on the gossip running through the halls anyway— you’re glad that you don’t have to worry about Jimin pitching in his two cents as to who the author is, but honestly? A small part of you kind of wishes that he knew, if only so you could see who he supported in this scenario, like whether he would defend your honour or whether he would betray you and stomp all over your friendship garden by falling for Sera's propaganda.

You suppose there's no way to know, since you're definitely not going to inform him about everything just to find out. No, this peace and calm that comes from how simply detached he feels from the current messy climate of your life is nice and you don't really want to throw that away just yet. For now, you're content to just sit and let it be. It's actually helping a little more of your anger fizzle out, so that's a definitely plus as well.

Content as you may be to let Jimin stay oblivious and wrapped up in his own little world as he currently is, you can't help but wonder what on earth has him so out of it in the first place. You don't think you've ever seen him like this, all spacey and distracted, dreamy smiles sent into the air where his eyes stare, half-lidded and dazed. You'd almost worry he's high on something were it not the brief moments of clarity where he checks back in to be a little shit and tease you.

Today's session for Jimin consists of a few worksheets he's brought for you to assist him with— two of which are similar enough and the third nothing to do with the others— and you do your best to guide him through them. Usually Jimin isn't that hard to tutor. You figured out early on that he's motivated by positive reinforcement more than anything else, and praise is what tickles him most. With this little hack up your sleeve, you never usually have an issue with guiding him along in sessions. Today, however, not even praise seems to be enough to bring him back to the present long enough to pay attention and actually make a dent in the work.

You like to think you're a pretty patient person, but even you have limits and they're reached about two thirds of the way into the session when Jimin gets distracted once more mid-sentence and leaves you sitting in place waiting for him, for a solid three or so minutes.

"Hey, Park," you bark sharply, hoping that if you sound enough like Hoseok then maybe it will startle him fully out of his reverie. "What's going on with you today? What the hell has you so distracted?"

Jimin jumps in his seat at your sudden tone, and turns to you now with wide eyes. It takes a moment for your words to sink in through the shock, but as soon as they register he sags in his seat and the tension leaves his form. His eyes flick to the right, a shy, lazy smile tugging his lips as his thoughts clearly go somewhere else. Seriously? Just how easily distracted is he right now? You only just got his attention, for crying out loud!

Just when you feel about ready to reach over and strangle an answer out of him, the crimson-haired male speaks and halts your violent thoughts in place.

"It's, um..." Jimin rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, using both hands to fiddle with his decorative ice-cream pen, a sundae with chocolate and cherries sitting cutely on the end. "Say, do you..."

Great, you can't help but think, looks like you're in this for the long haul.

"Do I...?" you prompt him, when you decide he's dawdled long enough in giving you an answer.

"Do you... you know... uh." Jimin rakes a hand through his hair, a button on the sleeve of his light denim jacket almost catching on the strands. He pauses, taking a deep breath, and then turns to meet your eyes— wait, is he blushing? "y/n... you know Lee Sera, right?"

Your entire brain seems to halt, the tip of your pen hitting the tabletop despondently. There's something funny about the way he looks right now, something odd and niggling at the back of your mind, but you can't quite place it because you're sitting there with a mild case of whiplash. What. "What?"

Jimin lets out a noise that is somewhere between a chuckle and a giggle, and shifts his gaze down to the paper on the table before him. Fiddling with the ice-cream pen once more, he bites his lip to hide a shy smile— oh, you realise what it is now. He looks like a school girl talking about her crush.

Two beats pass before that thought really sinks in —oh. no— and it's just in time for Jimin's continuation to sucker punch you in the face.

"Do you know if she... likes anyone?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Your brain decides to pitch in, the words mere millimetres from your lips, 'Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now—'

You just barely hold the words back. The noise you make instead doesn't really sound human, nor does it constitute an actual response of any sort, yet it's all the male gets and still, he's not deterred. It's as though he hasn't noticed the steam currently beginning to spill from the surface of your head, coiling tendrils betraying your current fuming state. What kind of cruel injustice is this? No, you almost want to plead to the heavens and appeal the cruelty currently taking place on this earth— please no.

“Y-you’re asking me if… if she…” You can’t seem to get the words out, the sounds choking in your throat. Jimin does seem to notice this, taking a moment to send you a somewhat concerned expression. It’s brief, though, and he’s soon off in his thoughts once again.

“Yeah,” he says, appearing bashful for a moment. “Although, that’s kind of silly of me, isn’t it. I mean, it’s Sera. Of course she has someone special, right?”

For one thing, you’re wondering just how you’ve managed to get this far in your tutoring sessions without finding out about Jimin’s evident crush on your ex-best friend. Like, is this a recent thing? Or is it more of a slow-burn, consistent for a long period of time thing? And on the other hand, given the context of the situation (despite full details being privy only to you), you can’t help but marvel at Jimin’s apparent poor taste in suitors.

Really, of all the people he could happen to have a crush on, it has to be her?!

“Nggh…” you choke down the words that attempt to rise to your lips, suddenly very uncomfortable in your seat. A barrage of thoughts rain upon your brain, overloading your mind.

Does he know? Does he know about the whole mystery poem ordeal that has so far worked to ruin your life in more than one way? Has he seen the posts? Especially the one that Sera made this morning? It’s hard to pinpoint, but when Jimin doesn’t elaborate further and simply resorts to doodling on his paper as he disappears with the fairies once more, you muse that maybe he hasn’t. If he’d seen it, surely he’d be mentioning it as he spoke of her? Bitterly, you recall that no one today could seem to pass up the opportunity to praise her with every fibre of their being. Just the memory makes hot flames of anger lick at your chest, and you do your best to cool them before Jimin picks up on the Big Kill Energy beginning to emanate from your general direction.

Somewhat thankfully, it’s at this moment that the timer on your phone goes off, signifying the end of the session. A long breath of relief escapes you as you reach for the device, sliding your thumb across the screen to dismiss the timer. The sound seems to have brought Jimin back to the present too, as he’s begun packing away his things in an indolent manner, humming softly to himself. He pulls his phone out, skimming through his feed distractedly as he does so. You decide you may as well do the same, beginning to pack up while he does. There’s no rush, so you actually take your time packing your things away instead of hastily cramming them all in your backpack at once like you usually are inclined to do.

You almost zone out yourself before a sharp gasp breaks you from whatever reverie you were about to get stuck in. Your eyes whip up to Jimin and, immediately after seeing the expression on his face, a feeling of dread begins to creep into your gut.

“Oh my god…” he murmurs, hushed, eyes wide and glued to the screen of his phone. A beat passes before he scrambles to take it into his hold, ring-adorned finger whipping across the screen as he rapidly reads whatever is on there. You don’t like the way he seems to glow with each moment more that passes.

“y/n!” he exclaims very suddenly and very, very loudly. You jump in a combination of fright and tension. “y/n! She— she’s—!”

Oh, god. You wish you could sink into the earth and never resurface. He’s seen it.

Cramming the last few items in your bag, you make use of the fact that Jimin is still staring at his phone and pretend that you don’t hear him, rising from your chair and beginning to walk towards the library doors. Jimin scrambles to his feet, following after you like a puppy, or a child wishing to show their parent something important. “y/n!”

“Hm?” You throw the noise over your shoulder half-heartedly, looking hastily for the best escape route that Jimin isn’t likely to follow you down. Unfortunately this isn’t downtown, this is the second-biggest library on your campus, and there is nowhere you can go that Jimin wouldn’t be able to follow you.

“I— y/n! Do you know that whole mystery poem author thing? I heard something about it a while ago but I just— I only just read about it and! y/n!” Jimin reaches out to grasp you by the sleeve, effectively halting you for a moment. “It’s just been found that Lee Sera is the author!”

Lord give you strength, you absolutely want to die.

“O-oh?” The utterance is literally ground through your teeth, but Jimin seems to be in such a state of euphoria that he doesn’t even notice. Of course.

“I mean, this is such a shock but… I’m not surprised.” The male is positively beaming with pride, looking down at his phone fondly. You think you’re going to be sick. “She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so….”

You don’t know whether you’re going to implode from anger or frustration, or maybe a dangerous cocktail of both. It’s as though there are live wires beneath your skin, nerves abuzz and wrought with the urge to strangle someone (preferably a certain someone) or hit something (preferably your head, against a desk).

“She sure is something,” you say, the toothy smile you slap on completely juxtaposing the bitter note to your voice. Jimin again, bless him, completely misses it.

You’re so close to the doors, but not close enough. Please… you just want to go home and angry cry into your pillow.

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented,” Jimin’s tone is full of awe, and you know that you felt murderous this morning but now you feel that and incredibly done. When will karma finish rawing you? Have you not suffered enough? Was everyday living not torture enough? Jimin’s lovestruck babbling stops for no man, “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted—”

“Who’s such a gifted what?”

You jump slightly at the sound of a new voice, eyes whipping over to catch sight of Kim Taehyung as he slips into the library through the widening gap in the doors and makes his way over. It seems he’s donned a loose white shirt and black pants ensemble today, something you notice because of the way they flow as he walks. His question was directed at Jimin, but his eyes seem to be surveying your expression to get a read on the situation.

Regrettably, you can feel that the face you’re currently pulling… really isn’t a good one.

The second he sees him, Jimin changes targets and latches onto his friend’s arm instead. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about—oofft—”

You don’t quite catch it, but you swear you glimpse Taehyung— whose cheeks seem to have taken on a flushed tone— deliver a powerful elbow to Jimin’s ribs, who grunts but nonetheless continues, undeterred. You’ve really gotta give him points for his determination and perseverance at this stage.

“The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now that I think about it, it makes so much sense!” Jimin’s gushing again, and you really think you might be sick sometime soon. Is it possible to be so angry that you become nauseous? You suppose you’re about to find out. “She’s one of the best in her class, isn’t she? Of course she’s able to make such a beautiful poem that goes viral the second it’s released— it’s her!”

Taehyung’s eyes had been trained upon Jimin the whole time he spoke, but now they’re sweeping to you and for some reason, you find yourself freezing in place under their weight. The dark cocoa of his iris’ swim with something indecipherable, a curious tilt to the corner of his heart-shaped mouth. It’s as though he’s watching for your reaction to something. His gaze doesn’t leave you for the entire moment that he answers his friend, “Uh huh. Is that so?”

You’re unnerved— or maybe it’s just a very sudden, very potent overload of your senses. You’re angry, you’re upset and hurt; you’re frustrated now more than ever at the injustice of the situation and how much of an absolutely helpless position you have found yourself in. You want to leave, and you know that if you don’t soon, you’re probably going to start angry crying in the middle of the library and that is a mess you absolutely do not want to experience handling. Besides, you don’t think poor Jungkook at the reception is really equipped to handle those sorts of breakdowns. You really wouldn’t want to put him through it either.

“Right, well I really have to go. I have a bunch of readings to do, so… better get started on those,” you announce loudly, cutting Jimin off before he can start again and drive you any further towards insanity than he already has. “Finish those sheets, Jimin. Don’t make me chase you up.”

Jimin whips his hand to his forehead in a salute, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Already turning on your heel, you make your escape while you can and wave goodbye. “Okay, see you! Have fun doing whatever it is you’re about to do!”

And then you absolutely yeet yourself out the library doors and all but bolt home.

Alright. You have a date with your pillow and some tears, and you’re not about to miss it. May the gods of fortune guide you home without anymore incidents that make you want to slam your head against a brick wall, please and thank you.

x x x x

“— I just, sort of like, you know, write whatever comes to my head. Like, whatever I feel comes from the heart—”

She follows you like the plague, bits and pieces of her and oh-so-casual reminders that she exists and is tormenting you, everywhere you go, and it takes every inch of your willpower to block her out and keep walking as you have every other time you encountered her preaching to admirers in the public spaces you frequent on campus. Sometimes Sera sees you, and you think that if she weren’t surrounded by half a hundred people sucking her toes then she might chase after you. You’ve been screening her calls, after all, and there have been a lot of them.

You regret to say, that in the days following that cursed announcement, things don’t begin to die down nearly as much as you hope they would. People are still talking, still whispering about it, and instead of it becoming old news it’s as though instead it’s a rampant forest fire, feeding ravenously on the hot gossip passed between peers at brunch, posts typed out meticulously on various media and dramatic recounts told by the friends of those that, wisely, seem to live under a rock.

You, of course, couldn’t be any less pleased with how the situation is panning out.

Your hot, scalding, unadulterated cauldron of bubbling rage has since settled down to a reluctant simmer. This is partly because you realised it is kind of unhealthy to be that angry so constantly, and partly because you’re not a fan of the constipation that results from being so tense with anger. You lose some, you lose some, you suppose. It’s lose-lose these days, babey!

The climate at university isn’t looking good for you, and each day passes with great testament to your willpower and determination not to purchase an automated vehicle and run yourself over. You still go to classes, and attend even the stupidest of lectures and tutorials (you’ve had to suffer through experiencing Seokjin more often than you’d like, but he seems to have toned himself down a little the past few times you’ve seen him— perhaps he’s caught wind of that [redacted] post and actually feels sorry for you?... No, he’s probably just got the flu and doesn’t want to use his voice up to torment you all at once). To be honest, you even kind of forgot about Jimin and his apparent crush for a while— probably would have continued forgetting if it weren’t for your sudden recollection approximately three minutes before his session on Friday.

With Hoseok gone, early as usual these days, you’re left to stew in your own thoughts and it’s barely a few minutes into dissociating that you remember Jimin’s last session and the knowledge that unfolded towards the end of it.

True to your luck and arguably a few minutes early to being right on time, you hear Jimin’s patent patter of footsteps and fight the urge to sink in your seat. You really need to get it together because this is ridiculous, you’re not prepared for anything and everything is out to ruin your day one way or another. You’re well on your way to crashing and burning in some sort of way but you still have no idea when exactly it’s gonna go down. An absolute travesty. You’re a mess waiting to get even messier at barely a moment’s notice.

“Afternoon, y/n!” Jimin crows in greeting as he nears you, a skip in his step and three books in his arms on topics that have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Does he even go here? You really wonder sometimes. “The sun says hello!”

You’re unsure whether he’s referring to himself, or the fact that the sun has indeed just peeked out from behind the clouds that have obscured it since early this morning, but either way the best you can manage is a strained smile in returned greeting. You can’t really bring yourself to look at him the same. Have you lost respect for Jimin after finding out that he has a massive crush on Sera, the person single-handedly responsible for ruining your life the most it has ever been ruined before and then going to ruin it further after you confronted her about it? Absolutely. Can you tell him without sounding like an absolute asshole because evidently to everyone but you Sera has managed to keep up a stellar appearance and benevolent persona? No, no you cannot and it’s probably going to end up making you drink questionable fluids later.

Somewhat stupidly optimistic, a small part of you hopes that maybe it was a brief crush, a spur of the moment affection erection, and that this Jimin in front of you now has realised the error of his ways and has moved on from this blight in his romantic record.

Of course, this is not to be, and the second there’s a lull in conversation after he’s begun working on the task you set him, he begins chattering away as he scribbles his half-hearted answers on the paper. If he starts dotting his I’s with hearts, you really might k-word yourself.

The topic of his vocal musings is, of course, one Lee Sera. You manage to sit there as he waxes the usual poetic, the stuff you heard last session and the things you’ve heard floating in the halls, with minimal incidence. While he’s talking about Sera, you’re constructing a little zen garden in the depths of your mind and it’s taking all of your brain power. Well, almost all of it— you do catch one little tidbit that makes you halt in your mental raking of sand.

“-- and I mean, I know it’s dumb, but I just can’t stop thinking about all those conspiracy posts on the forum, and, like… well, now they know who the author is, but they haven’t discovered the muse, you know? So like…”

The implication of his words hits you like a freight train, and the anger sizzling in your abdomen cooling suddenly into an odd sense of dread. Oh, oh no.

“I don’t think it is, but what if it really is me she wrote it about…?”

It seems, that Jimin— bless his pure, naive heart— has begun to hope. Learning that “Sera” is the author of a poem he’s suspected to be starred in seems to have crumbled the floodgate keeping the bulk of his feelings at bay. As he continues to mutter and ramble, pausing in his writing every so often to doodle a heart, or a tree with a heart and initials on it, you realise just how deep he seems to be in this little infatuation.

The very prospect of there being a chance his feelings aren’t unrequited? He can’t help but cling to it, and the more you hear tumble from his mouth the more you realise this tomato-haired crackhead is actually a hopeless romantic, and literally cannot stop himself from hoping, from feeding that fantasy he has.

Sitting there and listening to him, as the person knowing who the poem is really about and where Sera’s fixation doesn’t lie, you begin to feel a little guilty. You can’t tell him, can’t inform him of the reality because it would compromise you— not only that, he’s so taken with Sera and caught up in the romantic glow of the situation as he sees it that you doubt he’d believe you. That saddens you a little, that realisation. You’ve been friends with Jimin for months now, you’ve tutored him and even had a few impromptu therapy sessions when he rocks up a mess; but not once have you ever seen him or Sera so much as glance at each other, not once has his name passed her lips, and yet… if you were to confess to him, right here and right now, that you are the real author of the poem… would he believe you?

A part of you suspects the answer, and it makes your heart sink.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything to him. The rest of his session is spent stewing internally in your own perplexing cocktail of guilt and hurt, and you realise only as it ends and you watch him leave through the door that you never even had a chance to convince him that he’s not the muse. It feels cruel, thinking of doing such a thing when you now know how attached he is to the possibility of being the muse with Sera as the author. It would be an awful thing for you to do, to stomp on the morsels of hope that have bloomed within him for his crush. But it doesn’t change the fact that you are the original author, and you know who the poem was really written about— is it not the morally right thing to do, to tell him the truth?

Do you protect his feelings, or do you hurt them for a greater good?

You don’t know which is the right thing to do in this situation, and when you eventually pack your things up and exit the library, it’s with a sick feeling in your stomach and a foreboding tingling of your sixth sense that tells you this… isn’t going to end well.

x x x x x x

VVVVVBBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVVVBT. VVVVVBT.

It seems to take longer for the ringing to end this time, you note, as you somewhat despondently watch the phone vibrate and move across the table slightly from the force of it. Then again, it could just be the thousands of calls you’ve screened over the weekend that have you feeling so weary. Most would get the message that your continued silence and refusal to answer indicate, but apparently not Sera. You’ve always known she’s stubborn, and determined, but this is borderline crazy and you’re having trouble wrapping your head around the emergence of all these facets you never knew about or even noticed before now.

The weekend just gone, the two days that are meant to be your one time of reprieve and sanctuary from the messy shithole your world has become lately, had been desecrated. Not even in the safety of your own home could you pretend your anxieties didn’t exist, the tell-tale vibrations of your phone and the occasional, persistent series of dings that alert you to a new message were ceaseless. It’s a little concerning, her dogged dedication to attempting to contact you, but at this point you’re not even interested in psycho-analysing it. You just want a break, and for the “block call” function on your phone to maybe actually work for once.

Actually, you’ve been (unfortunately, regrettably) given a lot of insight into sides of Sera you’d never witnessed before, faces she’d kept hidden behind a carefully prepared facade and the persona she wanted to present to the world for the duration of your friendship. The messages she sends you come in groups, and more often than not in completely contradicting tones. Begging, pleading, empty apologies, anger, spite— you’ve seen them all, sometimes in the same message. For the most part, they’re shameless pleas and begs for you to talk to her, to answer her calls and listen to what she has to say. Some of them, though, give you a massive whiplash when you read them.

One such text from mid-Sunday reads from the notification bar, “i’m doing what you wanted, what the fuck is your problem? why are you so mad? honestly, at this point it’s a little selfish of you, i’m sacrificing so damn much just to…”

Another, barely an hour after that one, was quick to backtrack, “llisten y/n, i’m sso fuckiggn sorry for that last tesct. it was so uncalled for im so sorry. i’m trying so hrard but you wont evenn anser my callss, and im jsut, imr realluy having g scucjh a hard time with all of this stuff goigng on adn…”

You didn’t click on the notification or open them, so you don’t actually know what she says in the latter half of her messages. You don’t think you want to though, if the start of some of them are any indication as to what the rest will hold.

As if your phone being constantly lit up in some way or another due to her wasn’t enough, you also had to bear witness to the rest of the bullshit manifesting at her hands. In actuality, it was largely this that is responsible for relighting your rage pit and getting you back on the “incredibly pissed and absolutely unimpressed” track.

Contrary to the texts and voicemails Sera left you over the course of the weekend, she is simultaneously active on the cursed forum that she used to start all this, and the posts you've been seeing only serve to fuel your anger. At one point you got so mad you nearly threw your phone into your pot of noodles, the only thing stopping you being that you’re better than that and you’d rather throw yourself off the bank into the nearby river than let her get one up on you in any way.

Pleading and begging she would be in your inbox, and then she’d turn and press send on a post in the forum that completely contradicts whatever crap she bawled at you in her messages. The forum is currently an absolute mess of shipping posts (no longer starring you, but her) with varying suspected muses, the odd conspiracy post, and questions directed her as the ‘author’ that she answered in full character. You could deal with the shipping posts (well, all but one. That one made your blood boil and your stomach twist into an ugly pit of warped envy), but her impersonating you as the author and answering questions about your work as though she wrote it herself? You’re ready to spill blood.

The most common question, of course, in all its variations is something best encapsulated by this particular gem that shows up late Sunday evening: ‘omg, i love love love moonlight sonata! the second i read it i couldn’t help but fall in love, whether with you or the poem idk yet! I just wanted to know, like probably everyone does, who was the muse?’

That [redacted]’s response to this is probably the one that gets your blood boiling the most too.

‘hi, thank you so so much for all the love! its so strange since this was never meant to get out and i never really get such response to my works,, but i’m getting more used to it and im so so grateful!! haha! its actually funny you say that,, it was so embarrassing at the time but i once had a teacher say that they thought i could make someone fall in love with me with a poem alone >< hehe i guess they were right! and i did write moonlight sonata for someone, but i’m not sure if i should reveal that just yet… you’ll have to wait and see!’

Murder is illegal and so is manslaughter. Again, with more feeling. Murder is illegal, and so is manslaughter. There. You take in a deep breath, attempting desperately to find some zen after recalling all the forum posts you’d seen over the duration of the weekend. You suppose the only silver lining you’re going to be able to find in this is the fact that Sera doesn’t actually know who you wrote the poem for. Well, she might have a suspicion, but you’ve never told her. And even so, there would be no point in her ‘revealing’ who your muse is, since she’s claimed she is the author and ‘confessing’ someone would lead to circumstances she’d likely rather avoid.

But, now that you think about it, shouldn’t that mean that she’d try and avoid mentioning it altogether? If so, why is she feeding it every chance she gets…?

You don’t get to spare that train of thought much time, since despite how long the weekend drags on, the next day arrives very quickly. Before you know it, almost the entire day is gone and you’re zipping through your tutoring session with Hoseok, helping the somewhat frantic boy with a last-minute assessment he’d completely forgotten about. You’ve spent the whole day successfully avoiding anything to do with Sera and that stupid poem, and you’re actually feeling quite good at this point, in comparison to how you’ve been feeling the past, well, the past month or so. The hour passes quicker than you’d like and before long you’re packing your things up and helping Hoseok with his own bulging assortment of textbooks and notepads before they all go tumbling to the floor. You swear you see some receipts with hasty scribbles littering the bottom of his bag but you try not to look since you don’t want to ruin your progress and stress yourself out. You’re in such an oddly peaceful mood you’re actually thinking of asking Jimin if he wants to spend the session outside under the trees in the new garden the university brought in. Uncharacteristic, you know, but what is the human experience if not getting so stressed and exceeding your emotional capacity so extensively that you transcend all planes of feeling and feel contrarily at peace?

It’s as you’re exiting the library after your session with Hoseok, carrying some of his things for him while he fixes his bag, that the universe decides to remind you of your place and the fact that you can never truly avoid your problems in life. Apparently, they’re prone to chasing you down and sniffing you out like a bloodhound, and like a particularly nasty yeast infection they never truly go away until you seek professional help and purchase an antibiotic restraining order for that shit.

You barely get the words, ‘See you on Wednesday, Hoseok’, out of your mouth before you hear another familiar sound, much sooner than you anticipated. Hoseok returns the farewell and turns away, still cramming the rest of his things in his bag as he begins to move off. A laugh, light and airy and very familiar, brushes your ears and you turn with a slight smile on your face. Excellent, given he doesn’t see Hoseok making his quick escape, then he’ll probably still be in a good enough mood to agree to studying outside with you.

You turn, greeting already on the tip of your tongue, and promptly feel the words die in your throat and the smile on your lips drop completely. Oh, for the love of fuck.

Jimin is smiling, laughing, as he comes down the hallway, cheeks flushed pink and eyes disappearing into gleeful crescents— it’s a sight that would made you smile if it weren’t for the fact that he’s not alone.

The woman of the hour, the source of your suffering for the past month or so, is striding along next to the oblivious male, like the scorpion perched on the frog’s back. She’s placed her hand on the back of his arm as they walk, smiling at something he’s said as he chatters away, resembling an eager puppy as he does so. You recognise the move as one of her favourite lightly flirty ones.

Somewhat belatedly, your flight response kicks in, and you go to move and leave while you can— but its not before Sera turns and notices you standing there, mid-movement.

The shift is instantaneous. You might have thought that the interested expression she was directing at Jimin was genuine, if it weren’t for the way her entire demeanour changes the second she catches sight of you. Your first instinct is to be angry that she’d managed to find her way to Jimin, and that he’d probably fall for whatever bullshit spouted from her mouth about being the author, but as you see the slight, victorious flicker pass through her gaze, you become angry for another reason entirely. The suspicion weighing heavy in your gut makes your blood boil as Sera straightens, angling her body away from Jimin completely and all but non-verbally dismissing him, as though he’s no longer even there.

Jimin halts, brows drawing together as he takes in the change in Sera’s behaviour, confusion colouring his puppy-like features as he looks around for anything that could have triggered it. His eyes fall on you and they light in recognition, smile returning to his face as he waves at you, some of his crimson locks falling across his forehead from the movement. “Oh, y/n! Hey! I was just on my way to the session!”

Something churns in your gut, a foreboding feeling that feels far too icky to touch.

He takes a step closer, but pauses when Sera moves forward. Your entire body is tense with the conflicting urges to run and sock her in the face, limbs coiled and ready to spring you away. You’re going to have a massive crick in your neck after this. She begins stepping closer, hand stretching out as though to touch your arm, her brows drawing together in as close an approximation as she can get to regretful.

“y/n, I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” she says, tone having adopted an edge you’re very familiar with. Is she stupid? You know all her manipulation tactics, what is the point in employing them now? You think you know, though, and the thought only serves to stoke the bubbling pit of molten rage in your stomach.

Her hand reaches for your arm, trying to touch it, and you move it out of the way before she can, taking a few firm steps back. “Don’t touch me,” you warn, unable to help the glare that your features are pulled into. “I’m not interested in talking to you. I don’t want to.”

She’s really pushing it. You’re a patient woman, but even you have a limit and she’s fast approaching it.

A flicker of irritation flashes across Sera’s features before she masks it with her go-to ‘kicked puppy’ look. From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin flounder in confusion, probably because he has absolutely no idea what happened between you.

“y/n,” Sera whimpers, and when you see Jimin shift in concern behind her you realise why she’s acting the way she is. She’s using him as collateral, and she used him for land development to actually lock you down. Seems she doesn’t take being avoided very well. “Why are you being so harsh? I— I’m doing what you asked, why are you still so mad?”

You can’t help the venomous response that rips itself off your tongue, glare deepening. “Cut the shit. You know exactly why I’m pissed— it’s the same fucking reason I was pissed last week, except now it’s worse because you’ve made it worse. How could you possibly think any of what you’ve been doing is what I asked?”

You can only be glad that Hoseok has already left and the hallway is mostly deserted, the sole witness being Jimin to the spectacle beginning to unfold as Sera places a hand to her chest, sniffing and throwing her other hand out for emphasis. “Please, y/n, what do I have to do to fix this? I really have been doing what you asked, I’ve been—”

It’s as though something snaps within you, almost an entire week of her bullshit placing you at your wits end. You’re fuming, practically spitting flames, and it’s just barely that you hold yourself back from wrapping your hands around her throat. “You’ve been doing nothing but make things worse for me! You started this whole thing, you continued feeding into it even though you knew what it would mean for me— there is no fixing this!”

“y/n,” Sera’s eyes have begun to water, and you’re so enraged you don’t even see Jimin taking a few alarmed steps closer. “Please, I-I’m so sorry, I’ve said it a thousand times that I am s-so sorry—”

“Don’t you dare come to me and tell me you’re sorry. You’re not sorry, you were never sorry, and you clearly don’t regret a thing because the entire time since last Wednesday all you’ve been doing as parading around and proclaiming yourself as the author of that stupid poem when we both know it isn’t you!”

Sera flinches back, a visible clash of hurt and rage whipping across her features. It seems she settles on the latter emotion, face dropping into a glare and mouth opening to hurl a response back. The front she has put up is falling apart the longer this goes on. “I’ve told you so many times how much I regret what I did, how can you say—”

“y/n, what the hell?” Jimin’s voice has a sharp edge you don’t think you’ve ever heard before as he steps forward suddenly, looking incredulous and angry at once as he suddenly reminds you of his presence. “She’s the author, stop being so horrible. Isn’t she your friend? How could you doubt her? Is it so hard to believe that she’d want to write a poem for the person she likes?”

You’re momentarily stunned by his words, confused as to why he’s stepping in to defend her so avidly even with his little crush. It takes a moment, but it clicks eventually— dread fills the pit of your stomach as you realise that the idealistic hopes Jimin had revealed to you last session about being the subject of the poem have been exploited by a scorpion wishing to cross the pond.

“Shut up, this doesn’t concern you.”

Torn violently from your thoughts by the harsh, unexpected words, your gaze whips back to Sera, eyes wide. Jimin flinches, a soft noise of shock and surprise escaping him as his own wide-eyed gaze centers on her and hurt floods his deep chocolate irises. “Wh-what? But you said—?”

“Shut. Up,” she grinds out through teeth clenched so tight that part of you thinks they might shatter beneath the pressure.

Jimin fumbles, his confusion urging him to continue when he probably shouldn’t. “When we were walking here you said that you… that I was—”

Sera explodes, like a bomb with faulty wires and a timer that went off too soon. “I LIED! I’m not the author, and even if I was, that poem would never be about YOU!”

In the seconds that follow her booming exclamation, her words ring in the absolute silence of the hall. For a moment, it’s still. Then your eyes flick to Jimin’s face and you see how it falls, and all of a sudden it hits you— the realisation of what she just said, and who she said it to. How awful Jimin must feel, to hear those things directed at him. Now, for a moment, you see red, and you feel it slowly climb up your body from your toes to your fingertips and to your chest. You aren’t even aware of moving until you’re barely a foot away from Sera and your arm is whipping through the air, body apparently more in control than your brain.

You’ve never slapped anyone before, didn’t ever think that you really would, but the motion comes easily and the harsh impact of your hand against Sera’s cheek is satisfying in an odd, sickening way. Apparently you pack quite a punch when absolutely fucking livid, because her head turns from the force of your blow, her eyes shooting wide. You’ve left a mark in her foundation. Jimin’s crushed expression crosses your mind’s eye once more and suddenly the satisfaction you felt prior isn’t enough. You go to move again.

You get barely a split second into the movement before arms are looping under your armpits, your body being hauled away and out of hitting range. You’re so angry you barely pay attention to who it is, your focus on the piece of work in front of you and the absolute spitting rage that has swallowed you whole at the sight of her.

“How dare you—” you seethe, the words spilling like acid from your tongue faster than you can think them. “How could you say that to him—”

Everything suddenly hastens into movement from the stillness that had possessed it before. Distantly, you realise the person restraining you has stopped moving backwards and is attempting to calm you, but that doesn’t carry much weight when you hear a choked noise and your gaze is drawn suddenly to the side.

Jimin has taken a step back, almost stumbling in his leather boots, his hands trembling and brows drawn together, expression nothing short of crestfallen. You swear you catch his bottom lip quiver, and then your attention is taken by the way his dark eyes begin to water right in front of you. You’re almost rooted to the spot in shock as they begin to fill with tears, but you don’t get to see them fall because before they can, Jimin turns on his heel and begins walking away, pace quick and hurried.

“y/n.” The red has cleared from your vision enough that you now realise the person restraining you is Hoseok, his voice sounding close to your ear. He speaks again and you freeze because it’s with a tone you’ve never heard come from him before. It’s fury, but quiet and controlled unlike your hot spark of rage, and it makes you snap back into your senses instantly, spine straightening. “Go after him. He’s hurting.”

The brain cell rattling around in your brain reserved for mortal combat might be telling you to finish Sera off while you can, but Jimin is your friend and the reason you want to kill her in the first place is because she did hurt him. And the look on his face… you’ve never seen it on him before and you never want to again. For whatever reason, her careless words seem to have cut him deep, and you need to go and make sure he’s okay.

Without a second thought, you slip out of Hoseok’s arms and he lets you go. You begin in the direction that Jimin is going, footsteps hastening in an attempt to close the distance. You forget about Sera in favour of chasing more pressing things. “Jimin—”

The call had slipped out of your lips unwittingly, but the sound of it seems to set Jimin off. He quickens his pace further, and his legs aren’t that much longer than yours but the muscles are clearly more developed since you’re eating his dust even more than before. He disappears around the corner, and you just barely catch sight of his behind before you have to push to glimpse him once more.

Whether he doesn’t want to be followed by anyone, or whether he— heaven forbid— thinks it’s Sera coming after him, Jimin does his best to try and lose you. Around twists and turns, down hallways that you didn’t even know this building had, you chase him for what feels like forever and you can’t pinpoint where but somewhere in that time the two of you transitioned to almost running, Jimin’s light jog-speedwalk fusion easily getting the better of your own weak attempt.

Despite the heaviness of the situation, you can’t help but marvel that he really didn’t successfully streak across the university sports field for nothing— he’s super fast, and the only reason you’re able to keep up somewhat is through the temporary rush of adrenaline that slapping Sera gave you and the sheer determination not to lose him. You don’t normally have this much stamina, after all, but you don’t think Jimin is going to be running out on the other hand either. If he takes you up one more flight of stairs it’s game over for you.

“Jimin, wait—” you attempt to call out once or twice, but he never turns around, and each time you do so just results in him moving faster. You get the message quickly, but still have to bite your tongue to quell the natural urge to call out that rises.

The longer he goes, the more frantic he seems. Once or twice you think you see his shoulders shake, but can’t tell if it’s him or the rattling of your vision from your jerky movements. Jimin can’t evade you forever though, and this building and its hallways aren’t endless. Eventually you reach a dead-end, and the red-haired male gives up. He stumbles a little, making it through the doorway before he moves to the wall, his back to you.

Slowing down from your jog, you feel the tax of the exercise catch up with you as your breathing works to compensate the uncharacteristic energy use. You pause as you make your way towards him, somewhat tentative now he’s backed in a corner. Well, corner might not be the right word for it. Somehow, in all his evading, Jimin has managed to lead the two of you to the small balcony on the top floor of the building, barely anything more than a little alcove to overlook the horizon. It faces the direction that the sun sets, and you receive a view of that now, the soft reds, pinks and oranges a contrast to the light blue of Jimin’s denim jacket but a compliment to the scarlet of his hair.

Despite the fact you chased him this far, wanting to comfort him, now that you’re here… you feel kind of bad for intruding. Still, you didn’t tail him through the entire building for nothing. Tentatively, you make your way over to where he is. You’re not very loud, but he seems to sense your arrival when you step out onto the balcony with him, back still to you. You take another step closer, going to peer around his shoulder, but he flinches, bringing his hand up over the side of his face and using the other to wipe under his nose.

“Don’t look,” he sniffs. “This is humiliating.”

At his words, you feel your heart sink right down to your feet. The resulting sensation is an empty ache in your chest, something you think you can best describe as empathy that is a little too deeply rooted. Suddenly you realise that, in a way, this is your fault. You wrote the poem that ended up hurting him, and even though you weren’t the one who said those things to him, you’re the one that provided the fodder.

You don’t know what to say, so much was on the tip of your tongue trying to burst forth before, but now it’s as though your voice is stuck in your throat. You swallow, shuffling the slightest bit closer, and attempt to pull something meaningful from the dredges of your mind.

“It’s okay. Everyone looks a little bit ugly when they cry, you know.” Not what you intend to come out, but it comes out anyway.

It pulls an unwitting laugh from Jimin though, the sound tinged with the echo of a sob. He turns and presses his back to the wall, covering his face with both hands, and slides down until he’s seated on the floor, knees drawn up. You watch him for a moment, the way his form trembles slightly and he sniffs, before you’re carefully placing yourself down next to him, trying not to be too obnoxious in your movements.

You wait a moment, partly because you want to see if he is going to say anything and partly because you, yourself, have no idea where to start. It occurs to you, though, that maybe what he wants isn’t comfort in the form of words. When he doesn’t speak, and the moment still doesn’t feel right to say anything, you ease a little closer and, when he doesn’t protest or shift away, you do the only thing you can think might comfort him in this moment.

Silently, you move your arm up and around, slipping it over his shoulders and pulling him close to you into a half-embrace, feeling somewhat like a mother hen sheltering her chick from the harshness of the world. Jimin stills for a second, frozen in your arms, but then he lets himself fall into you and it seems the proverbial dam holding his tears at bay breaks.

He lets himself sob now, hands still over his face and his body shaking against your side as he curls up into you and draws his knees closer to his body. His tears flood his hands, some escaping to drip down onto your legs and shirt. Your heart aches at the sounds escaping him— trust Sera to unintentionally pinpoint someone’s deeply hidden trauma when insulting them. The only thing stronger than the dislike you feel for her right now is the regret that you allowed the circumstances of your own situation to spill out and affect other innocent people in your life, like Jimin.

You spend some time simply sitting there, letting Jimin cry out the hurt against you at the cost of your shirt and jeans, running your hand soothingly along his back and arm. You place your other hand on the knee closest to you, not much but another small symbol of comfort you hope he receives. He’s in a state for a while, sobbing and hiccuping until his voice grows a little hoarse and thick from the snot congesting his nose. Eventually, he calms enough that his body no longer shakes with his weeping, and after a period of silence broken only by a few sniffles here and there, the male pulls away so that he’s no longer leaning on you like the tower of Piza.

You let him slip out of your hold, simply sitting and waiting for him to speak— you could sense the intention in the way he wipes his face and swallows, readying himself. You don’t have to wait long.

“This is probably the one thing I’m most afraid of in life, you know,” he croaks softly, a humourless laugh tacked onto the end. Your heart gives a painful throb, but you bite your tongue from comforting him just yet. You can feel there’s more to come.

Jimin seems to finally manage to wipe his face somewhat clean, at last letting his hands drop onto his lap and allowing his head to fall back softly against the wall. His profile is illuminated by the last reaches of the sun, casting him in a soft pink glow that almost disguises the redness around his eyes and nose.

Watching him so keenly as you are, it doesn’t escape you when he opens his mouth to speak again and his chin wobbles, his gaze directed to the ceiling of the alcove. His voice wavers, growing strained as he vocalises the thoughts weighing him down so.

“It’s kind of stupid, isn’t it?” he says softly, still looking upwards. “Everyone’s afraid of rejection, but for me… I can’t— I can’t… handle it.”

“It’s stupid, to be crying over this,” he sniffles, eyes watering but no tears falling as he attempts to hold them back. “It’s stupid, but it just— it just hurts, you know? It fuckin’ hurts. All the people I admire, and the people I have admired in my life…”

Jimin blinks, a single tear slipping down over his cheekbone of its own accord. He lets it go, not bothering to wipe it. You’re caught frozen in your spot, watching with wide eyes as he reveals the most hidden part of himself and entrusts it to you. From just your usual interactions, you’d never have garnered that this side of him even exists. He takes a deep breath, a shaky breath. “It doesn’t matter who they are, what they are to me, it never seems to change. Either they don’t want me from the beginning, or they— they find something more important to them than me and they leave.”

“A-and I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help but think,” he chokes a little, voice growing thicker and wobbling dangerously. He blinks rapidly, fresh tears burning his eyes. His voice cracks on the last of his words. “I can’t help but think, w-what if that’s what is meant for me? W-what if there’s no one who will stay?... What if no one will want me, y/n?”

His words are a boot crushing your heart beneath its sole, and you swear even with all you’ve been through in the past month or so you have never felt as gutted before as you feel now for him. The last question to leave his mouth seems to bring the rest of his feelings to the surface, his eyes closing as a soft sob slips from his lips once more. He brings his hands to his face again, elbows resting on the top of his knees, and you’re so busy trying to squash down your own tears for him that for a moment, you can only sit there and listen to him. You feel a bit lost.

What could you ever possibly do to even begin healing a wound that seems to run that deep?

You know, realistically, there isn’t anything you can do, and it’s not your place nor wound to heal. But still, you know there is something you can do to ease it a little in this moment, you just need to figure it out. It’s at that thought that suddenly, you receive a stroke of genius, an idea that honestly is a little embarrassing but definitely better than nothing coming to mind.

Already feeling somewhat humiliated in advance, you reach for your bag and open it enough to stick your hand in and rifle through it for the familiarly shaped object. Jimin has shown you one of the most vulnerable parts of him, so you can live with the embarrassment this once. Your hand finally locates what it’s looking for, pulling out the beaten-up A5 spiral notebook that has lived in your backpack for the past two years. Jimin either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t care enough at the moment to pay attention to whatever the shuffling sound is, which you’re kind of thankful for because you need a minute or two to actually follow through with your idea.

You slip your hand back into your bag as you open the notebook with the other, performing a lucky-dip of sorts into the risky depths of your bag one more in search of a pen. You find one and pull it out without discrimination— god, alright, it’s the rainbow ink gel pen with a crystal cat on the end that you bought on a whim at the dollar store. Guess that’s the hill you’re dying on this afternoon.

Peeking to the side to make sure Jimin isn’t watching— he’s still crying into his hands, something you probably shouldn’t be slightly relieved about in the moment— you try and flick through the book as quietly as possible, eyes scanning the messy scribbles on each page.

This, is your little rough idea scrapbook. The only thing that’s in a state anywhere near as chaotic and messy as this is your phone notes, and you really don’t want to think about those right now. In this old, beaten notebook that surprisingly hasn’t run out of pages yet, is where you usually scribble your ideas for writings, or poems. You’re looking for one of the latter currently, a rough draft that came to you in a fever dream and you copied onto paper in a haze, before never touching again. It’s incomplete, but you’re finally about to give it the ending it deserves.

Finally, you catch sight of it on one of the pages to the back, the words “softer than the embrace of the moon” jumping out at you. Ah, this is it. The rough draft of Moonlight Sonata, the poem that ended up turning your life on it’s head and leaving you for dead in the dust from the upheaval.

Making sure Jimin is still not focusing on you, you uncap the stupid, glittery pen and hastily put it to paper, throwing down whatever enters your head that makes sense and feels right. You don’t think you’ve ever written anything this fast that wasn’t a heap of absolute trash, but perhaps it’s the emotional potency of the moment that has you scrawling lines across paper with ease.

You only take a few minutes, and after which you somehow simultaneously feel the cathartic effects of creating a poem and the embarrassment of the fact someone else is about to see it. Well, it’s not Moonlight Sonata in any way, but this little abridged creation… it’s not too bad.

Quietly as you can so you don’t prematurely disturb his weeping, you tear the page from the book and make sure there’s nothing on the back and the old title is scribbled out before you fold it in half, turning to Jimin at last.

Gently, you reach and brush some of the dyed strands from his forehead, successfully catching his attention. Jimin peels his hands from his face, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot but containing a curious glint as they turn to you.

You opt not to say anything just yet, pulling one hand towards you and placing the folded piece of paper onto his palm. Confused, he stares at it for a moment before bringing it back towards him and tentatively unfolding it. You wait until he begins to scan the page before you speak.

“Just because you weren’t the subject of that poem, doesn’t mean you’re not worthy of being the subject of any.”

His head whips to you as your soft words catch in his ears, eyes wide and glistening slightly, full lips parted and mouth slightly ajar. You can feel your face beginning to burn, but you ignore it for the sake of Jimin. You’ve come this far, you need to say it and he needs to hear it.

“There are many things about you to fall in love with, Jimin, and even if the author didn’t, I know someone will,” your voice shakes slightly as you speak, a small smile touching your lips. Something pops into your mind before you can call it quits, and you feel the rest of your face light on fire in anticipation. Right. Just do it, pussy. It was embarrassing when done to you, and it’s embarrassing to be the one doing it, too.

This is so humiliating, but you’ll do it… for him. Fuck this whole friendship thing, man.

Taking another deep breath, you reach for the hand closest to you and take it into your grasp, pulling it closer. “And I know it hurts, right now, a lot… and it might hurt for a while, and that’s okay.” You swallow your embarrassment and bring his palm to your lips, placing a soft kiss there, before moving his hand back and placing it over his heart. “But my mother always said kisses take the pain away, so I hope this can ease it, even a little.”

In the moments following your little spiel, it’s silent, and Jimin stares at you in a mixture of shock, appreciation, and something else you’re not quite emotionally equipped to decipher. The stillness breaks in the next second when his eyes water once more and he lets out a long whine that sounds suspiciously like your name, and to save face you let out a loud groan as you reach and pull him into a hug again, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Hopeless,” you say, shuffling you both so you’re facing the sunset and watching the last of it slip past the horizon. “If you keep crying, how are we going to explain your face after? I know I told you everyone is a little ugly when they cry but you’re really— ow!”

Jimin chokes a sobbed laugh into your shoulder, retracing his fingers from where they jabbed your ribs. You glance from the corner of your eye and can’t help the smile that rises when you see he’s clutching the scribbled poem you finished for him to his chest.

“Shut up and let me commit the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me to memory and watch the sunset before I push you over the railing,” he grumbles, smile evident in his voice. You roll your eyes again, face still warm from your embarrassment. You relax into each other, soaking up the last of the sun’s warmth while it’s there.

Backtalk, after you willingly humiliated yourself to make him feel better? Fuck this friendship thing, bro. Gremlins have rights, too.

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alison-anonymous · 5 years

Text

♡ time stops | t.l.

Time Stops | Tom Lucitor

Combined soulmate AU of Time Freezing and Shared Pain!

Warnings - none

Characters - you, Tom Lucitor, Star Butterfly, Marco Diaz

Requested - nah man no one wants to request anything😅

♡ ♡ ♡

In the world you lived in, time went by extremely fast. Well, for you. It seemed like the earth was moving on its axis a little quicker just for the benefit of rattling you. The people on the street always seemed to be hurrying. Whenever people spoke, it always seemed rushed. The school work you received was always as high as the pyramids. Sometimes all you wished for was for the clock to just freeze.

To stop time, even if just for a little bit.

As if that weren't making your life miserable enough, you also had to deal with your soulmate. You and your soulmate shared any harm that came to either one of you. Of course, you had no clue who your soulmate was, and frankly weren't that interested in figuring it out because of all of the "soulmate reveals gone wrong" stories that littered tabloids. Though, you had to admit, it did get a little annoying when your hands constantly felt like they were on fire. At first, you had thought you were the cause of it. You were a little klutzy whether you liked to admit it or not. But after it occured while you were washing your hands with cold water, when you were out getting the mail, when you were helping Star and Marco carve ice, and when they dared you to stick your hands in the freezer and your hands were STILL burning, you soon realized that it was probably your soulmate.

So, as revenge, you often rammed your knees or elbows against things in hopes that your agonizing pain would spread to him and balance out the pain they made you feel as well.

Only, you found it a little mind boggling as to how someone could manage to cause that much pain on just their hands. Maybe he was a pyro or something.

You were just a simple human teenager going through her own set of problems. You always tried your best, and attempted to make friends, but not many of them ever really stuck. Eventually, you were able to become pretty close friends with Marco Diaz, the school's safe kid, and Star Butterfly, a magical princess from Mewni. While you and Marco bonded over a shared fascination with karate, you and Star had more of an you-saved-her-one-time-and-she-got-heart-eyes-and-thinks-anything-you-do-is-amazing-now sort of way.

You loved the two of them to death, and as time went on, you began to realize the all too familiar shared pain experiences the duo were having. Not being too fond of romance yourself, you decided to indulge into your best friends' love lives instead of figuring out your own. It didn't take you too long to figure out that Star and Marco were soulmates. It all happened when Marco dropped a brick on his foot and Star screamed in pain in another room. But of course, you had to keep it inside because revealing soulmates to one another never had good outcomes. But you still secretly shipped Starco all the way.

In the present, the three of you were having a sleepover in the Diaz household. It was a weekly occurance for Star or Marco or both to just follow you to your house then kidnap you. Not that you minded, of course! After fattening yourselves up with plenty of junk food and Marco's nachos, and binge watching some TV shows, the three of you were sitting around in a circle as you braided Star's hair, sharing gossip and talking about everything in general when a sudden topic approached that made your heart rate pick up.

"So, Y/n," Star began as you moved on to another braid. "Have you figured out who your soulmate is yet?"

You reached for the soda sitting before you and raised the bottle to your lips. Let this be beer, you thought as you chugged the remains. It didn't help your speeding heart like you'd hoped.

"Nope. And I don't know if I ever will. Life's always been a little hard on me, and I don't think a soulmate is going to fix that for me. Besides, time goes by too fast for me anyways," you sighed, watching as Marco's and Star's movements seemed sped up compared to yours. You heaved a sigh and laid your head back against Star's headboard.

"Well, I've heard that once you meet your soulmate, as soon as you lock eyes, time us supposed to freeze. It only starts up again once you touch. But that's only for some people. Meeting your soulmate is different for everyone," Marco shrugged, biting into another nacho.

And some soulmates have met and don't even know it, you thought, eyeing your two best friends as they secretly stole glances at one another when the other wasn't looking.

"Well, it's kind of difficult for the shared pain to help us figure out who our soulmate is. I mean, besides the occasional bumps and scratches, the only constant pain I get from them is really weird..." You rolled your eyes, shoving some cheddar popcorn into your mouth. When did the topic suddenly turn to your love life?

Star turned to face you and raised an eyebrow. "What kind of weird?"

"Well," you swallowed. "It's always this constant burning sensation on the palms of both my hands. Like they're being set on fire or something. Isn't that strange? I don't know."

You heaved out another sigh and were about to continue your braiding of Star's hair when she suddenly flipped her whole body around to face you and started squealing. Even Marco had a smirk across his lips. You leaned back a bit as Star's eyes filled with hearts, being a bit creeped out. Everything was moving so quickly it was hard for you to keep track of what your friends were doing and saying.

"Oh my gosh, your soulmate is T-"

Star was cut short my Marco clamping his hand over her mouth. You furrowed your brows at his slightly panicked expression.

"Star, shush! You know we can't reveal soulmates to each other, remember?"

You couldn't help but gasp. "Wait - you know who my soulmate is?"

Star brushed his hand off her mouth, and continued to hold on to it in what might be excitement. She grinned her signature toothy grin at you. "Of course we do!!! Oohhh this is perfect, you two are made for each other, why did we never see it before? Marco, we have to get them together!"

She proceeded to do some more squealing and Marco tried to calm her down as you sat in your own silence, trying to calm the flashing world before you. Time, slow down, you whispered in your mind. Things were happening too fast.

They knew your soulmate. But if they knew your soulmate, how hadn't you figured it out yet? It was probably someone you'd never met before. Though some soulmates meet and never know it. You hoped your case wasn't one of those. Or Starco's.

Grabbing ahold of the soda you wished to be alcohol, you attempted to drink more only to realize the bottle was empty. Sighing as you set it back down, you let the newfound knowledge seep in.

Who was your soulmate?

♡♡♡

About a week later, you were woken up from your homework-induced coma by the sound of your phone going off. Groaning as you picked it up, you mustered up your best hello.

"Y/n! Marco and I are going to a ball tonight, and you're coming with us!"

"But-"

"I'm outside your house, come on, we're going shopping!"

♡♡♡

Of course, being best friends with Star Butterfly also included being dragged along with her to big fat fancy balls in different dimensions with different proper etiquette and creatures you had never laid eyes on before.

After trying on countless gowns, Star had finally settled on something her usual style and you had picked a modest gown of your favorite color that gently trailed along the floor with a small slit up the side. Of course, Marco was just wearing one of his tuxes. You couldn't help but have an internal fangirling moment when Star and Marco froze staring at one another all dressed up. It was absolutely adorable the way that they stuttered out compliments to one another!

On the carriage ride to the ball, Marco and Star were acting really strange. Extremely giddy, like they were sitting on the edge of their metaphorical seats, waiting for something amazing to happen. You decided to savor their anticipation for as long as you could. When Star Butterfly bit her lip to refrain from letting out her evil fits of laughter, you knew she was plotting something.

The carriage rolled up to a stop by the castle, and since you had gotten used to life with Star, you delicately hopped out and waved goodbye as the carriage flew away. Turning back to Star and Marco, you grinned internally once you saw they were holding hands as they beamed up at the beauty of the castle in the night sky.

"Okay, everyone, are we ready? Y/n, you're going to meet someone very important tonight!" Star grinned over at you. You furrowed your brows.

"And just who am I going to be meeting tonight?"

"Oh, no one!" Marco quickly sputtered out before Star could say another word, pushing you both inside the castle. You were never really one for balls, especially ones from alternate dimensions, but with Star Butterfly, you were a fellow girl and you didn't quite have a choice. With Star's hand firmly gripped around yours with excitement, she led you and Marco through the throng of creatures conversing, burning to death in unicorn blood, and messing with trash cans. The three of you made it about halfway through the night fueled by trio dancing and the interesting assortment of food and drinks that were suspended midair on flying tables that you had to race to catch.

Finally, it was time for you to meet this mysterious person.

You had been dabbling in a bit of table racing with Marco, betting on which tables could get away from the creatures trying to have a taste of the substances they held faster, when Star came up behind you and grabbed your shoulders.

"N/n!" She shouted, making you scream in surprise. The three of you burst into a fit of laughter, Star wrapping her one arm around your bare shoulders and holding Marco's hand with the other.

"Are you ready to meet him?" She practically shrieked into your ear.

"Him?"

"Him. His name is Tom Lucitor." Marco answered.

"Tom Lucitor," you repeated, feeling a strange sensation of butterflies flutter around in your stomach at the name. Star couldn't contain herself anymore and burst out into a fit of giggles, whirling you around and attempting to fix your hair while you stood there in confusion and nervousness.

"Star, this isn't another hook up is it?" You questioned, narrowing your brows. Marco bit his lip to contain a smile and Star simply laughed, squishing your cheeks together.

"Don't worry, N/n. I've got it all under control!"

"I sincerely doubt that." You whined, leaning your head against Marco’s shoulder.

“OH MY GOD THERE HE IS! TOM!” Star suddenly launched away from the two of you and began screeching her way through the crowd. You and Marco tried to keep track of the piled blonde hair through the crowd, but lost her after she passed by a dolphin. Wringing your hands together nervously, you turned to Marco once again and snapped him out of his longing gaze in Star’s direction by smashing his cheeks together so he would face you.

“Dude, I don’t know if this is a good idea. I mean, I’m weird. I’m awkward. And this is probably a hook up, one that I am not in the mood for! There’s no way he’s going to like me. He’s probably going to think I’m weird or creepy or ugly or-”

“Y/n, stop,” Marco laughed, grabbing your hands and holding them in his own. His brown eyes were warm as he offered you a smile. Marco had known about your self-consciousness for a while now, and your suicidal past with depressive tendencies. Your life had never been easy, and your brain sure wasn’t letting you off the hook.

“You are amazing, whether you’d like to believe it or not. You’re beautiful, brave, kind, funny, and loyal. You’re also pretty badass too. Remember when you helped me and Star break out Pony Head from St. O’s? When you found that baseball bat and just went crazy smacking all those guards? You’re an amazing person, and the only person who doesn’t see that is yourself. He’s going to love you, believe me,” he suddenly winked at you, which made your eyes widen. “You two are closer than you think you are.”

He gently let go of your hands and smiled once again at you, only this time, you gave him one back.

“Thanks, Marco,” you softly said.

“Anytime, N/n-”

“HERE SHE IS!” You were once again interrupted by a screaming Star, only this time she was dragging someone along with her. Your heart began to pound with anticipation as she pushed the person into you. Not even having a change to take a good look at the person, you only saw a flash of pale lilac before he was practically shoved onto you, his height causing his chin to slightly bump against your head before he gently grabbed your arms to steady you before pulling back.

“Y/n, this is Tom! Tom, this is Y/n, the girl I had been telling you about.” Star’s voice called out, only for some reason, time seemed to slow down drastically for her words seemed a little warped. Furrowing your brows, you slowly raised your eyes from the floor to take a good look at the person standing before you. Starting at his black as night tux and his shoes which were, wait, were they on fire? His strangely colored lilac skin which at first glance looked creepy, but was actually kind of unique and cute once you got used to it. Finally, your eyes landed on his face. He had beautiful salmony hair that was complimented by a set of horns on each side of his head. You breath hitched as you finally pieced together from the third eye just who were looking at.

Tom Lucitor. As in demon prince of the underworld Tom Lucitor. How the hell did you never-

Then you finally met his eyes and the second that your e/c orbs met his red eyes, time suddenly froze.

Star’s face was frozen into her squealing position next to a smirking Marco who had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. The tables had stopped flying, some suspended in midair, and the creatures who had previously been chasing them were frozen in the most weird facial expressions with their tongues sticking out. But none of that mattered, because for once you had finally gotten time to stop. And not only that, but the only people who weren’t frozen were you and the demon hybrid standing in front of you, the electricity between you two making it almost impossible for you to break eye contact with his beautiful and emotional red irises.

Tom was the first to break eye contact, though reluctantly, and took a look around at the frozen figures before the two of you. You however, found it difficult to look away from him. You barely knew the mewman, and yet you felt such a connection to him.

“Is the world frozen right now? Did Star freeze time again?” He questioned. Ugh, even his voice sent tingles down your spine.

"It's t-the Time Stop," you stuttered out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Marco told me about it. It happens once you meet your soulmate and time continues only once we, um, physically touch."

A smirk danced across his lips and you felt your chest tighten. "Well, I don't know about you, but I kind of like the world like this. Time moves much too quickly without you, gorgeous." He winked at you. Your pulse begin to race, each beat as hard as a sledgehammer as a blush grew on your cheeks. Bashfully looking down at the floor, you sensed him step closer to you, already feeling the warmth from him radiate onto your exposed skin.

“This may seem a little out there since we just met, but you are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.” Raising your head once again to meet his lovestruck gaze, a smirk grew onto your lips as well.

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that because we’re soulmates?” Crossing your arms across your chest, you playfully teased him. He laughed then, grinning over at you, and it was then that you realized that even though he was a demon hybrid, you honestly didn’t care. Humans sucked anyways. Sorry, Marco.

“I may be a bit biased, but I still think that you’re gorgeous. And I’m just now realizing that you probably have had to deal with the other end of my anger issues...” he let out an awkward chuckle and scratched the back of his neck. Giggling, you dared to take another step towards him, sensing the sparks drifting between you two.

“Having my hands feel like they were on fire most of the time is definitely not as bad as the rest of my life has been up until recently. Plus, you’re not too hard on the eyes yourself,” you did your best attempt at flirting, feeling the burning in your cheeks. Even Tom had some color dusting his cheeks as he eagerly stepped even closer to you. You swore that you could see the fire dancing in his eyes.

“I’m definitely looking forward to getting to know you,” he smirked.

“The feeling is most definitely mutual,” you giggled. A comfortable silence passed as you stared into each other’s eyes before you realized that the two of you couldn’t stay like this forever.

“As much as I could definitely get used to just the two of us in a time frozen world, we should probably start time back up again, huh?” You asked, smiling softly. He stepped even closer to you, closing the distance bit by bit until your foreheads were almost touching. You felt the intense desire to just reach out and wrap your arms around his neck to kiss him, but suppressed yourself, instead choosing to wait to see what he did next.

He smirked as he lifted his hand to hover next to your face. Your breath hitched once again until he finally cupped your cheek in his hand, so close that if you simply moved an inch, your lips would be on his. As soon as his warm skin touched your cheek, time started back up once again, only this time it was moving at a much more even pace.

You never expected your soulmate to be a demon prince, but you already knew you wouldn’t trade Tom for anyone else.

♡ a.a.

#tom lucitor x reader #tom lucitor #star vs the forces of evil #svtfoe #tom lucitor imagines #svtfoe imagines #readerinsert #soulmateau #timefreeze #sharedpain

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post-itpenny · 4 years

Text

The Regret

A sequel to The Challenge.

Just as ridiculous as the first time.

Dwight’s anxiety had skyrocketed to a level he never thought possible. Two trials after his run-in with The Legion and he had hardly slept, he couldn’t focus at all in trials, at the campfire he was always looking over his shoulder as if half expecting the masked teens to be right behind him.

Dwight adjusted his glasses as he made his way through the collection of tents and fragile structures that made up the survivors camp, coming to a small lean-to at the camp’s edge. Jake, like many of the vetran survivors, had plenty of time to gather the materials needed to make a more stable shelter. They never had to worry about rain but a warm place to sleep was still a luxury, Dwight had gone through enough nights sleeping by the fire without so much as a blanket to know this. He found Jake sitting outside the lean-to salvaging what was left of a beaten-up tool kit.

“I messed up.”

“I heard… Nea told everyone.”

Dwight sighed as he ran his hands through his hair, of course she told everyone.

“What am I going to do?”

Jake didn’t answer right away, instead taking the time to clean a few spare gears he had picked up somewhere. Dwight was used to this, he and Jake were two of the few that had been here the longest and understood Jake liked to take his time in answering; just as cool and level headed as always. Dwight once questioned Claudette why people didn’t see Jake more as a leader. Her answer was short- “he’s not meant for that pressure, that’s you.”

Jake finished his work, snapping the toolbox close before looking up at Dwight. “You and I both know the Legion has the combined attention span of a walnut. Keep low and give it a few trials, I garuntee someone else will do something stupid enough to outdo you.”

Dwight relaxed a little, Jake really did have a point.

The very next trial and someone really did outdo Dwight in level of stupid.

David King was running from The Huntress, as she threw a hatchet Feng screamed “yeet!” from behind and the killer just snapped. Pivoting on the ball of her foot and charging at the survivor with a speed Feng never thought her capable of. David panicked, Feng was on her third hook and he had to do something. David dashed ahead of the Huntress just as she threw a hatchet at Feng Min-

And David caught it.

Perhaps it was his previous life as a rugby player, or the power of adrenaline…. or maybe just pure dump luck. But David caught the hatchet by it’s handle, the blade inches from his face.

For once The Huntress was silent, staring open-mouthed in shock. David was surprised as well, looking at his wide-eyed reflection in the polished blade.

Feng however recovered quickly, dashing off without a second glance. The Huntress shook her head and yanked her hatchet free of David’s hand, taking off after the other survivor. Feng Min was hooked a few minutes later, David however didn’t come to his senses until the gonging of a bell triggered the endgame collapse. He and Adam being the only two to make it out that round.

That evening David’s catch was the only thing they could talk about. Truly legendary and what would be regarded by some of the survivors as King’s finest moment. The next day David was a part of the trial against The Nurse, the strange spirit seeming to regard the survivor with… uncertainty? It was very hard to tell what the apparition was feeling considering she wore a bag over her head and all. After a few minutes she seemed to make a decision-

And mori’ed him on the spot.

None of her usual soft regret came afterwards but Steve, who had been hiding nearby, swore on his ranger med kit he heard The Nurse rasp what sounded eerily like “yeet” before teleporting off.

When Dwight heard the story it was through Nea cackling about how The Nurse yeets herself around the map much to an annoyed David’s chagrin who was still struggling to get his breath back. Claudette fussing over him saying the killer really did a number on his windpipe.

Dwight chewed his nails, this wasn’t right, and he had a bad feeling it would get worse.

Two trials later and Nea was sneaking around Lery’s, with Nancy and Adam already dead it was just her and Tapp stuck with three generators. It didn’t help Nea was for once without a flashlight

She had just started working on a generator when spine chill went off. With no heartbeat she could only assume the killer, whoever it was, was either just out of range or had concealed themselves. Nea snuck away into the shadows, rounding a corner and climbing into a nearby locker despite her better judgment.

Nea held her breath, maybe it was Michael? He normally didn’t check lockers and she could get lucky. Unless it was-

“Boo!” Ghost Face laughed as he yanked open the locker door. Nea screamed and backed away only for the killer to grab her shoulder and pull her out of the locker. There was a bright flash and Nea found herself blinking away spots as the killer held up the screen of his camera for them both to see.

It was a picture of The Ghost Face and a panicked and confused looking Nea, the killer giving her a set of bunny ears.

“Yup, that’s definitely going on the wall.” Ghost Face chuckled, “ok Punk Rock you have two seconds.”

Nea was still trying to regain her sight, “wh-what?”

“One second.”

The survivor bolted, crashing into a stray gurney as she did so.

Nea probably wouldn’t have said anything except several copies of the picture were found on the log benches around the campfire soon after. They all laughed until Tapp asked the question of how the pictures got there.

The implications put them all on edge after that.

Dwight had become a nervous wreck, chewing off what was left of his nails as he made his way to one of the largest tents in the camp.

Nancy and Zarina had become instant friends over their love of investagative journalism. Nancy had been quick to begin documenting everything she could the moment she and Steve had first stepped into The Fog. She enlisted Jane to take every survivor’s testimony while she used every trial she was in to explore the nooks and crannies of the different realms to learn what she could. When Zarrina arrived these efforts were doubled. The tent served as a home base where their findings were stored and catalogued. Dwight, having never ventured inside before, was very surprised to see a map of each trial ground on display and an even larger map of The Fog half finished on a table.

“These aren’t the normal maps,” he observed.

Zarina looked up from her writing with a grin, “correct!” Nancy had the idea to use a couple of the generator maps- along with a lot of observation- to make a detailed map of every trial. We found the totems, exit gates, and hatch don’t actually spawn at random! The Entity seems to like following patterns and will manifest these in a few choice locations.”

“No wonder you two find totems so fast!” Dwight gasped as he looked over the nearest map of Haddonfield in amazement at the detail. “So the larger map-”

“It’s a guessing game I guess,” Nancy chimed in. “We looked at how long it takes to enter a trial, what direction we were facing at the campfire vs. direction facing at the start of a trial, stuff like that. We could be wrong though… but we could also be right.”

Dwight looked at the maps in awe, then to the scraps of paper, stitched together notebooks, and folders that sat in stacks around the tent. It was all very impressive.

“Did you need something Dwight?”

Dwight shook his head, focussing again. “Y-yeah you guys have been taking notes on the killers yeah? H-have you noticed if-”

“They have been acting off yes!” Zarina grinned, grabbing three folders and flipping them open.

Inside were drawings Jeff had done of The Nurse, Ghost Face, and Wraith along with several pages on each killer.

“So yesterday Ash and Kate got back from a match saying The Wraith just followed people around ringing his bell the whole time. He even camped Yui after hooking her and rang that stupid bell in her face until The Entity came for her. Weird right?”

“Yeah I gue-”

“Then Nurse hardly says anything yeah? I think the most anyone heard was Nea who said the killer spent a whole match whispering some name over and over. Andy- Andr… I don’t know, Nea didn’t quite catch it. But what IS important is that The Nurse saying “yeet.”

“Though it was Steve,” Nancy pointed out, “he’s kinda dum-”

“But he is our only witness and no one has said that word in Nurse’s match at least in front of her AND she understood what it meant.” Zarina pointed out. “So with Ghost Face and the picture I now have a running theory.”

“What’s your th-”

“My theory is that perhaps just as the survivors can interact with each other outside of trials so can the killer’s! The Huntress must have said what happened in the trial with David-”

“So The Nurse got revenge?” Dwight questioned. “Why would she do anything?”

Zarina frowned, “first of all it’s rude to cut people off like that Dwight. But yes it may be that. My theory is that the killers are having a game of their own. Why else would Wraith and Ghost Face act so off?”

Dwight felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, “so would The Legion-”

“Sure why not,” Zarina reasoned with a shrug of her shoulders. “They’re a bunch of teenagers. Hell it might even have been their idea for all we know.” Zarina paused, as if she suddenly remembered something. “Hey Dwight, didn’t you-”

Dwight passed out again.

#dead by daylight #dbd #I still don’t know what I’m doing folks

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theworldthatneverwas · 4 years

Text

Sound of the Sunset - Laughter and Merriment

Fandom: Kingdom Hearts Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Ephemer & Player Character (Kingdom Hearts), Player Character & Skuld (Kingdom Hearts)

***

“Someone’s sleepy today,” you remark as Ephemer leans dramatically back against you so you’re pushed up between him and the window frame.

He slides down until just his head is in your lap and his feet are against the other side of the window. “I worked hard on my mission,” he pouts, eyes closed.

You hover your hand over his head for a moment, then gently pull your fingers through his silver curls. He opens his eyes briefly and catches you looking at him, then quickly squeezes his eyes shut again before letting out a pleased sort of hum.

“Where’d you go today?” you ask.

“It’s called Castle of Dreams. There’s a prince there preparing some kind of a ball and all these Heartless were getting in the way. You should’ve seen the size of the Mega-Shadow in the courtyard!” He opens his eyes and gestures broadly with his arms. “Massive! And it had a bunch of these little Shadow minions too.” He glances up at you. “How about you? Do anything interesting?”

“I went to Beast’s Castle. Chirithy told me that there’d been a Huge Snowman Heartless spotted there, but I didn’t find it today.” You gently push some of Ephemer’s curls away from his eyes. “You might need a haircut, you know.”

Ephemer scrunches his eyebrows together and tugs at the front of his hair. “You think?”

You gather his bangs up at the top of his head. “I could probably put it into a tiny little ponytail at this rate.”

“But I like my hair down.” He tugs his hair back so it’s brushing the tops of his eyelashes. “...Do you think I’d look good with a ponytail?” he asks in an unusually timid voice.

“Hmm...” You brush out some of his hair onto your hand to see how long it is. “Pulling it off your forehead might just emphasize what an inflated head you have.”

“Oh, thanks.” He lets out a dramatic puff of air that blows his bangs up off his face.

You chuckle and gather his hair up on top of his head once more. “...You could grow it out if you want to.” Ephemer smiles and closes his eyes again. You continue, “I’d even teach you how to braid it!”

“You think it’s long enough to braid now?” His hands drift to the tassels on his scarf, which he wraps around his fingers.

You narrow your eyes, gently pulling at the curls to see their length. “I could maybe make it into a couple of different braids.”

Ephemer lets out a hum that sounds like agreement, so you set to work parting his hair into several sections before beginning to braid one segment at a time. His silky hair, combined with the fact that, despite teasing him about it, his hair isn’t that long, makes working with it a bit more difficult than expected. You tie off the end of the first braid with string from a spool of thread Ephemer says he picked up at the Castle of Dreams a while back and gather the next section of hair to begin a new braid.

You sit like that in silent concentration for a few moments until Ephemer speaks up again. “Do you ever think about what you’d do if we weren’t running around defeating Heartless all the time?”

“What I’d do...?” you repeat, mostly to yourself. “I guess I’d... spend more time with friends? I meet a lot of nice people out on missions, but I don’t often see them afterwards.”

“Yeah, that sounds like you,” Ephemer says. “You’re easy to get along with.”

“You think?” You accidentally lose grip on the strand you were working with and the whole braid unravels. Gathering up the hair again, you start from the beginning.

Ephemer looks down at his scarf, rolling the tassels between his fingers. “Yeah. As soon as I met you I thought you seemed like a really nice person. And now that I know you better, I see that you’re always worrying about other people more than yourself.”

You offer the spool of thread to Ephemer so he can break you off another string to secure the end of the braid you’ve just finished, then guide his hand back to hold the hair while you tie it off. Worrying about other people just seems like something everyone should do. It’s not that you disagree with Ephemer’s assertion that you’re a nice person, not exactly. But it feels like a “really nice person” should be someone who’s constantly going above and beyond to be kind and helpful, not just showing people the basic human kindness they deserve.

“I guess you must meet a lot of rude people if you think I’m some kind of bastion of kindness.” You gather up another free section of hair and start separating it into three different pieces.

“That’s not true! I mean, just think about when we first met. You didn’t know me, and I’m not even in your Union, but you ran over to help as soon as you thought I was in trouble.”

“Anyone else would do the same, though.” You’re glad he’s looking down at his scarf instead of at your face, which you can feel getting warm at his unexpected praise.

“Maybe you think so, but a lot of people don’t think that way. That’s what makes you special.”

You’re not quite sure how to respond, so you simply continue braiding his hair in silence, thinking. He tips his head back slightly to look up at you when you don’t reply, one eyebrow raised in question.

“...I’m not really sure what to say to that, Ephemer. Thank you? I hardly feel like a shining beacon of kindness, but it’s nice to know you think I’m easy to get along with.” You pass him the thread again and he breaks off a piece for you that you loop around the end of the braid. “Okay, you need to sit up and take your scarf off so I can braid the back too.”

He pulls himself up to a sitting position, tugging his scarf off. You straddle the window so you’re facing the same direction and can support your back against the window frame. Dangling one leg out the window, you pat the space in front of you and Ephemer shuffles backwards so you can start braiding his hair again. His shoulders twitch when you run your fingers through his hair to separate it. “Hmm?”

“It tickles,” he says, turning to hide his face from you and chuckling.

“ You’re ticklish?” You’re not sure why it had never occurred to you, but it’s a surprise nonetheless.

Ephemer clasps his hands around the back of his neck to protect it. “Don’t go getting any ideas!”

“I wasn’t gonna do anything, but now you’ve got me curious,” you say. Ephemer twists to look at you with puppy-dog eyes. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing. Now turn around so I can finish braiding.”

Ephemer slowly lowers his hands to the red scarf balled up in his lap and traces his finger over the spiral patterns in the fabric. You section off his hair again, trying to pay more attention to how your fingers brush against the back of his neck so you don’t tickle him accidentally.

“Sorry,” you murmur when he twitches again, patting his shoulder and holding out a hand for another piece of string. “Almost done. Hold this so I can tie it.”

“What does it look like?” he asks, running his fingers along the braid above his ear.

“Uhh...” You take a moment to survey your handiwork. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” The back of your hand brushes up against his neck again and he shivers. “Oops.”

“Is braiding hair hard?” Ephemer asks, still prodding at the braids you’ve already completed.

“Not really,” you say, folding one strand over the other. “It’s harder to braid your own hair than it is to braid someone else’s. And it’s easier with longer hair.” You tap his shoulder. “Thread, please.” He passes you another piece of string and you guide his hand to hold the end of the braid you’ve just finished, then loop the string behind his hair and tie it off. “Done!”

Ephemer shuffles forward on the windowsill and swings his other leg inside the lighthouse so he can turn to face you, patting at his hair. “It feels... weird.”

You grin at his new hairstyle. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair off your forehead.”

“I like my hair down! But it’s nice not having it in my eyes. I guess I should probably cut it soon.”

“There’s a Moogle in the marketplace who does a good job,” you say, stretching to pat down a braid that’s sticking up a little too much. Okay, if you’re being honest, the whole hairstyle looks very silly. He’s got three French braids on the top of his head and four at the back. Plus, especially at the front, several shorter pieces of hair are sticking out of the braids where the strands were too short to incorporate properly. You feel the corner of your mouth twitching upward as you take the whole look in.

Ephemer narrows his eyes. “I see you trying not to laugh,” he says, trying to affect disappointment but fails spectacularly and smiles back at you instead.

The laugh bursts forth from your lips and you shake your head at him, smiling. “You look really dashing, trust me.”

“Nope, too late, I don’t believe you anymore!” Ephemer sticks his nose up in the air and tosses his scarf back around his neck, crossing his arms when he’s done.

You bring the leg you’d been dangling out the window back onto the sill to kneel on as you shuffle closer to Ephemer. “Aw, come on, and after all my hard work this is the thanks I get?”

Even though Ephemer has his face turned away from you in mock displeasure, you can see the upturned curve of his cheek and the creases by his eyes.

“Guess I have no choice, then,” you say, “but to tickle you into submission!”

Ephemer lets out a small “eep!” as you wiggle your fingers against his side, hunching his arms close to protect his ribs from your hands. You can feel him shaking with laughter as you both wrestle for dominance. At one point, he stops trying to defend his sides from your tickling and manages to grab your wrists, pushing you back until you can’t support the weight anymore and you both tumble onto the lighthouse floor in a fit of laughter.

You end up half on top of him with a faceful of scarf, your legs somehow tangled together such that you can’t figure out how to get up. His fingers move against your side and, worried you're about to be tickled again, you quickly bring a hand to your face to move his scarf away when you accidentally hit something hard that makes Ephemer go “wa— ow ”. You uncover your vision to see him with a hand to his nose, rubbing a part that looks a bit pinker than usual.

“Ah, sorry!” you say, trying to figure out where you can put your hand so that you can push yourself off him. Your faces are much closer than they’ve ever been, and your cheeks are heating up.

“No, no, don’t worry about it, uh...” He tries to sit up and you manage to roll off of him onto your back, detangling your legs in the process. Pulling himself up onto his elbows, he glances at you and starts to laugh, a big belly-chuckle that seems to come from somewhere in his chest. It’s infectious, and you find yourself laughing too at the absurdity of the situation.

“You know, we’re lucky we didn’t fall out of the lighthouse,” you say, gesturing to the windowsill.

“Aw, we were fine!” Ephemer insists, sitting up properly. Maybe it’s just the lingering rays of sunlight filtering into the lighthouse, but his cheeks seem much rosier than usual. He stands up and offers you a hand. “Might be a good time to go home, though.”

You let him pull you up so you’re standing, too. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I still have to find that Heartless in Beast’s Castle tomorrow, anyway.” You glance up at his hair, now with even more loose strands sticking out of the braids, and try unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh. “Do you, uh, want me to take the braids out before we head back?”

Ephemer raises a hand to his head and rolls a loose tuft of hair between his fingers. “Nah,” he says, crouching down to open the trapdoor that leads to the stairs down the lighthouse. “You did put a lot of work into it.”

“You bet I did!” you say, patting his head affectionately. “You’re sure to get lots of compliments while we walk back to town, I promise.”

***

Find Sound of the Sunset on AO3! It updates every Tuesday (+ bonus update on Friday this week since everyone’s cooped up at home). This is the fifth chapter out of 28.

Fic Summary: What if you and Ephemer had spent a year getting to know each other before he disappeared? What if you and Skuld had had more time to become friends before the Keyblade War? A slightly canon-divergent AU with an overdose of fluff, friendship, and found family.

Feel free to message me with hc requests or fic prompts! :)

#ephemer #ephelayer #khux #kingdom hearts #fanfic #sound of the sunset #union cross #kh #this is one of my favourite chapters!#it was a lot of fun to write #honestly guys it just keeps getting fluffier from here out

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chemicalmagecraft · 4 years

Text

The Gamer Hero, Deku Chapter 27

A/N: Completely totally random fun fact: Five-card Mao is a fun card game where you're not supposed to tell people the rules, except for, I believe, the fact that if you win a round of Five-card Mao you may create a new rule for the game.

xoxoxo

After getting back from Yuuei, the first thing I did was show my mom the paperwork Shuzenji-sensei gave me. We cried tears of joy together and hugged, then she signed it and I decided to go talk to Kacchan. I figured it'd be a good idea to fill him in on my new powers.

"You can what?" Kacchan asked.

"I can copy Quirks now," I answered. He stared at me for a while. "Are you okay?"

He sighed very loudly. "You know what, why not? You can copy Quirks now. Cool." He stuck out his hand. "How do you do it?"

I grinned and made sparks from my hand. "It's a little finicky, though a bit less thanks to an exploit I found out about, but if I fulfill the right conditions I get a copy of a person's Quirk that I can 'buy' from a new menu."

"And those are?"

"I think it's supposed to be just from either beating someone in a fight or potentially from quest rewards, but one of the rewards for the sports festival quest I got was a choice of two Quirks from a pool limited to people from Yuuei. One of the Quirks I picked was a copying Quirk, which thankfully gives me a copy too."

Kacchan nodded. "Yeah I remember that guy. Kind of an asshole. So what was the other one?"

I felt a sting in my eyes as I activated it. My hair felt weird, and while I couldn't see them I assumed my eyes were glowing red. "Try to use your Quirk."

He snorted. "I know what Aizawa-sensei's Quirk looks like, asshole." I laughed and turned it back off. "So you just... have a bunch of Quirks now?"

I shrugged. "There's a limitation. If I have too many Quirks out then it lowers their effectiveness. But yeah, I have a bunch of Quirks now. I got the Quirks of the past One For All users, there are the two I just said, Super Regeneration from that Nomu thing that I bought because it's a passive boost to healing, the Quirks of everyone I beat in the tournament as another quest reward, and my cat's Quirk, which I tested Copy on."

"Damn. And knowing you, you got some other stupid good thing during the sports festival."

I nodded and pulled out my phone, using Technomancy to turn it on and open my pictures without actually pressing any buttons.

"Showoff," Kacchan muttered, then looked at the picture I took earlier. "Is that a fucking tower?"

"Yup. I got a new spell called Imaginary Architect after that last attack in our fight."

"When you threw fucking swords at me?" Kacchan asked.

"Because I threw fucking swords at you. It's an improved version."

"How the fuck is an entire tower an improved version over being able to make some swords?"

"Now I can make anything out of magic, if I have enough power."

He thought for a moment. "Yeah I guess that makes sense."

I switched to the second photo where the tower was dissolving, the only indication that I was interacting with my phone the blue, circuit-like lines that glowed to life on it and my hand when I did. "And this is what happened when I stopped using Imaginary Architect. Pretty, right?"

Kacchan nodded. "Yeah, it kinda is. Don't suppose you've got enough of an understanding of it to teach it to me yet?"

I shrugged and made a small sphere. I tossed it into the air a bit, then dissolved it mid-throw and replaced it with a small cube. I tossed that cube around a bit, added spikes to it, then dissolved it. Next I made a lab coat with a lot more concentration due to how complicated it actually was, actually making it around my body. I managed to make it a lighter shade of blue than the other IA constructs, but in the end it was only almost white. It did, however, behave exactly like a lab coat made of cloth should, down to how it ripped when I pulled one of the sleeves off. Even breaking a part of the construct didn't destabilize it, which was a failing in most Quirks and spells that made temporary objects. Even my Skill Grimoir worked like that. It was that self-contained... "Yeah, I think I should have a good enough grasp on it now. It's a bit complicated, though."

"This isn't gonna be like Meditation where it just doesn't work, is it?"

I shook my head. "No, from what Todoroki told me Meditation has an aspect to it that my Quirk reproduces automatically."

"How the hell'd he know that?"

"Apparently he can sense magic."

Kacchan twitched. "How the shit does he do that?"

"Beats me. Still, the biggest hurdle to you learning Imaginary Architect should just be that it's really complex. You might want to start out with Bound Blade first."

He sighed. "Ugh, fine."

xoxoxo

I spent the rest of the day (and night) switching between grinding both Imaginary Architect and Item Enchantment and reading up on basic architecture. Around midnight, I decided to check out the hero news. I opened up the website I normally used for hero news (not even using my hands, Technomancy was fun) and scrolled through the articles. One caught my eye.

Pro Hero Ingenium Critically Injured by Hero Killer Stain

"That was what you overheard, wasn't it Sonia?" I asked. She nodded quietly. "Well, thanks for giving me a heads up. Come to think of it, I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me anything you hear about that you think I might need to know? Nothing personal about other people, unless you think they're going to get hurt or something, but stuff like explosions or villainous plotting?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I'll do that!"

"Thanks." I clicked on the article. Yeah it did not look good. "I don't need to tell you to keep an eye on Iida, do I?"

"Nope."

"Thanks..."

I was glad that I was using Technomancy to use the computer, because that freed up both of my hands. My left hand started to glow green with Healing Hands and my right hand glowed purple with Draining Hands to give it something to heal. While I was at it I switched Super Regeneration off. I didn't know if I would be able to help with Iida's brother at all, but it was a reminder of why I got Healing Hands in the first place. I wanted to heal people, and Healing Hands still had its limits even in the nineties.

xoxoxo

I stopped practicing my new skills around noon of the next day to check out one final thing that I had gotten recently that I wanted to mess with. Enlightenment had recently leveled up enough to unlock its next ability:

Allows the user to access their own subconscious mindscape through Meditation.

It would probably be more obviously useful if not for the fact that The Gamer already prevented any form of tampering to my mind, but at the very least it changed Enlightenment from (Passive) to (Active and Passive), meaning that I could hopefully level Enlightenment up at least slightly easier by exploring my mindscape.

I created a perfectly generic object with Imaginary Architect, automatically enchanted with that one slowfall enchantment I'd stumbled upon earlier (though not the floating one), and used Singularity on it. I floated over the construct with my legs crossed in the stereotypical meditation pose and pulled it into the air, adjusting my pull on it when it was halfway between me and the ground so that it just hung there, my 'gravity' pulling on it as much as Earth's. I closed my eyes and let my skills guide me deeper within my own mind.

xoxoxo

I felt like I was falling backwards for what somehow felt like both an instant and an eternity at the same time, scenes from my life flickering in and out of my vision. After that interminable time, I found myself in the foyer of what looked like a hero museum. It felt familiar, and from the looks of it combined some elements from some of the hero museums I'd been in before, though maybe with some other aspects as well. I suppose that made sense, it was my mindscape after all...

The central figure of the foyer was a larger-than-life statue of All Might in a triumphant pose raised on a pedestal.

...

Fair enough...

The statue had a spiderweb of large cracks on it, exactly where the real All Might's wound was. "I know this is my mindscape, but is everything in here going to be so on the nose?" I muttered. I shrugged and picked one of the hallways leading out of the foyer at random, one labeled 'Magic,' and walked through it.

"Whoa," I said. The giant room on the other side looked something like the library of a medieval fantasy magic school, instead of the museum theme of the foyer. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves packed with books, there were moving models of various moments scattered around the room, an ornate pedestal with a large book in the middle with a large spiral staircase around it, and balls of light floated around the ceiling to provide light. I walked over to the closest model. It was the tower that I'd made yesterday. As I watched it dissolved like it had when I stopped supplying it with energy, then reappeared after a few moments. I walked away as it looped itself and examined another one. This time it was the flurry of blades that I'd used to finish off Kacchan. Not all of the models were mine, though most of them were, but every example was an example of magic that I was impressed or amazed by. For example, Kacchan and Uraraka's fight, the time I destroyed Todoroki's iceberg, the cavalry battle, the first time I cast Halcyon Wing, those shenanigans with Yang, the Wild, Wild Pussycats' cat spells I'd seen on TV that one time, my fight with Nomu, that one time Kacchan pulled me out of Illusion Barrier to punch me in the face, my first time using the elements with Kacchan, and the first Mana Bolt that started it all were among them. It was nice to see them all memorialized like that, even if it was only in my own head.

After I was done looking at the pretty displays, I checked out a section of one of the bookshelves. It had a label on it, 'Lightning,' with little lightning bolts on it. I pulled a book out at random and opened it to a random page. Most of the text was garbled for some odd reason, but I could make out one passage.

Lightning Bolt

A simple lightning spell. The user gathers electrical energy with lightning mana and shoots it in a burst at the target.

It was almost exactly what my own skill entry for Lightning Bolt said, but without the cost and everything. I frowned and flipped through the pages. I couldn't make out any of the other entries, but to be fair I didn't know too many lightning spells. I really needed to fix that, and with the other elements too. I closed the book and it flew back into its spot with just my intention to return it. I thought about Lightning Aura and Lightning Embodiment, and a dash-like lightning spell I'd made with the hope of creating a flying lightning spell called Arc Step. Those were my other three major lightning spells, so they should probably be somewhere in the lightning bookshelf. Again, my thoughts caused the books to move on their own. Two books pulled themselves out of the bookshelf and floated in front of me.

I plucked one of them out of the air and opened it to a random page. It had Lightning Aura and Lightning Embodiment on it, with one spell in between them. I stared at the passage. It was almost like it was constantly shifting, like some sort of selective but cripplingly bad dyslexia, but I felt like I should know what it was. I almost caught a glimpse of it... I checked one of the other passages that I couldn't read. I didn't have that feeling of recognition, but I still caught a flash of what it might be. Filing that away for later, I turned my attention back to the familiar passage. What could it...

Maybe a lightning version of Kacchan's Fire Ignition? As I thought it, the shifting of the slowed to a stop. The description was still a blur, but I could at least read that I was right.

Lightning Ignition

Maybe it was because I knew what the spell was, but didn't know it? If that was the case... I put the lightning books back and summoned an air book. Yup, Air Aura and Air Embodiment were there with their descriptions, but with a passage for Air Ignition in the middle that I couldn't read the description of. I put them back and looked at some of the other sections of the bookshelves. Aside from the elements, there were several books on healing, enchantment (apparently Elemental Aura and Elemental Ignition, but not Elemental Embodiment, were enchantment-type, plus my buff spells), illusion, offensive, defensive, sensory, movement, mind, summoning, and even more books of magic. There were so many books, most of them almost completely indecipherable. I supposed it represented the sheer scale of what magic could do. Heck, there were even a few bookshelves that I couldn't read the titles of.

After looking through a few books, I decided to check out the book on the pedestal in the middle. For it to be in the middle of a library full of magic, it had to be something impressive, right? I approached the pedestal and... it was just an oversized version of the Skill Grimoir. The pedestal had a counter on it that looked like it was showing me how many Skill Fragments I had at the moment. "Status," I said to check.

The menu didn't open. I frowned. "Menu." Nothing. "Skills." Nothing. "Skill Grimoir?" The giant Skill Grimoir was summoned to my hands, not the one that I could make from my Quirk. I guess it made sense, Quirks being a part of the body, that even if part of my Quirk affected my mind I couldn't use some parts of my Quirk within my own mindscape. Heck, now that I thought about it the only part of my UI that was still was the minimap. "Does that mean my magic won't work?" I asked myself. I created a simple little Magelight and added it to the floating lights. I cast the spell, yes, but even though it felt almost exactly like it did when I did it in real life, it didn't feel like I used any energy in it. "Weird."

I shrugged and looked at my Skill Grimoir. I wondered what it would look like to use it in here. I clearly could, otherwise why would the pedestal have an SF count on it to make up for the fact that I couldn't check my status screen? I flipped through the book for a skill that I wouldn't mind using SF on. There was a decently cheap skill called Shock Sphere that I was fine with. I confirmed the purchase. The words peeled off the page as usual, but when they dissolved into light they didn't go directly to me. Instead, the light split and streaked over to books in the lightning and offensive bookshelves. There were no text boxes, but I knew how to use Shock Sphere when the last of the light entered the books. I summoned both books to see that yes, there was a completed passage for Shock Sphere in them.

"That's... something..." I muttered. I guess that the books were a representation of my skill list? I moved onto the last feature of the room, the staircase. It was made out of floating strips of the same stone-like material as the flooring, but with small bits of red carpet on them. I walked up the staircase to see what was up there. The staircase was long and the tower that it went up was hollow, meaning that I could fly around there with a lot of room if I felt like it. The room at the top of the staircase looked like... maybe it was supposed to be the top of a wizard tower? The large room was circular, with eight large windows that lined up with the cardinal and ordinal directions on my minimap. There was an empty bookshelf, some tables, and a few training dummies and targets by the walls in between the windows. Creepily enough, the space outside the windows was just a blank white void...

I jumped out the window to see what the outside looked like, but realized when I tried to use Float that my copied Quirks weren't working either. I fell for a few meters in surprise before casting Halcyon Wing. The base of the tower was just a part of the circular staircase, instead of the library at the bottom. I tried to fly under the tower to see what would happen, but bonked into a perfectly white floor. There weren't even any shadows, which made sense when you considered the fact that there was also no light. I looked around the white void.

"I wonder what this is supposed to be?" I muttered. "Maybe it's supposed to be something like visualization of magic? I can use my magic in here, plus there were those dummies, so maybe I can use this place like a training ground for my magic. It'd be a bit nicer if it wasn't just this blank white void..." I had an idea. "If this is all in my head..." I closed my eyes and imagined the forest I used to play in as a kid. Soon the image in my head felt almost real and I realized that my eyes had opened at some point. I flew back up and surveyed the new forest. It probably wasn't exactly accurate, even aside from the giant wizard tower that stayed in there when I replaced the void, but it was still a forest in my head.

I flew around the forest for a bit, seeing how it looked. It kind of looked like it was randomly generated with my memories of the forest, because it didn't look like it was exactly the same as the real thing. Certain areas seemed to repeat too. I also checked what would happen if I destroyed a tree or something. It just smashed like a normal tree. Not sure what I expected to happen there. After that, I wondered if I could create NPCs in there. I imagined a ring of bokoblins, like from Breath of the Wild, around me. Before they could attack me I tested out my new skill on them. Shock Sphere, fittingly enough, reminded me a bit of the electric lizalfos from Breath of the Wild. At least, that electrical explosion that they could do. A sphere of lighting magic centered on me enveloped the bokoblins, causing them to convulse. When I ended the spell (which seemed like I could continue it just by supplying more MP), they all fell down and faded out of existence. I hoped it wasn't that deadly in reality...

With the training grounds tested out, I flew back into the tower and jumped down the stairwell. I didn't even feel any impact when I fell on the floor, and the floor didn't look damaged either. I got up and finally walked through the exit hallway of the magic room. I suddenly found myself back at the foyer of the 'museum,' standing exactly where I had been when I first entered my mindscape like I'd teleported there.

"That was interesting. Let's see another room." I walked up to a hallway, which had a sign that said 'Memory Lane.' This time, the room was just a long hallway with paintings hung all along both sides. On the left side I saw memories that were, generally speaking, negative. Fear, anger, sadness, every picture evoked emotions like that in me. Meanwhile every memory on the right was positive. When I looked at the left side it felt like it was longer than the right side, but when I looked at the right side it felt like it was longer than the left. Only when I didn't focus on either side and just stared down the middle did I see that the two sides were equal.

Does that count as a metaphor? I feel like that's a metaphor.

I kept my hand on the wall of happy memories as I walked down the hallway. My hope was that it'd serve as a reminder not to linger on the bad memories. As I walked down the hallway reminiscing, I noticed that some of the memories on the happy side were also on the negative side, just in a different light. I got to the end of the hallway having only cried a few times. Like the last room, exiting it brought me back to the beginning.

I looked at the hallways around the foyer, wondering what else could be in them. "One more," I promised myself, and went through a hallway labeled 'Heroes.' The large room was filled with statues and pictures of various pro heroes. The ones I admired more had more prominent statues, with All Might's being the centerpiece of the room. I noticed with pride that while there was a statue for Endeavor, it was destroyed. Only the legs were intact, with the rest of him just being a pile of rubble with demeaning graffiti on it.

However, I quickly noticed that there was something completely out of place near the All Might statue. A party of seven, who by the way I had never seen any of before, sat at a cheap folding table in cheap folding chairs. And because this was in my mindscape I apparently couldn't see their titles. There was a man with long white hair, a woman with a short, spiky ponytail that kinda reminded me of a pineapple, a blonde man with red eyes, a white-haired man with a large scar over his left eye, a bald man wearing an opened leather jacket with no shirt under it and a pair of goggles on his forehead, a black-haired man in a coat with a collar so high it covered his mouth, and a motherly-looking woman with a beauty mark under her mouth. It looked like they were about to play some sort of card game.

The man with long white hair, who looked like he was the dealer, shouted "Five-card Mao is not in session!" and threw a card at the man in the coat, who was the only one holding his cards. The man picked the card up and added it to his hand, which was currently about twice the size of the others'. The long-haired man said "Five-card Mao is not in session!" again, and threw another card at the other man. They repeated this several more times, the white-haired man's shouting getting more exasperated each time. Soon the man in the coat was holding all the cards.

"I win," he said smugly.

"That's not how Five-card Mao works!" the white-haired man protested.

"How does it work, then?" The man looked through his numerous cards.

The white-haired man slammed his hands on the table, rattling his five cards. "I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU!"

"Then how are we to play the game?" the man asked smugly as he set most of the deck down.

The white-haired man sighed. "You figure it out. That's supposed to be part of the fun..."

"Um..." I said, and all seven of them turned to stare at me in unison. "What are you people doing in my head?" I asked.

"The kid's here," the bald man said. "How is the kid here?"

The motherly-looking woman got up. "I suppose some introductions are in order. Sorry for alarming you, Midoriya. We're... the past users of One For All, the Quirk you have now. My name is Shimura Nana."

"Oh," I said. "So I guess One For All takes some kind of copy of the user's mind?"

The bald man shrugged. "Probably something like that. Name's Daigoro Banjo. Sup."

The man in the jacket nodded. "Hikiishi Jiroku."

"Hello, Midoriya," the scarred man said. "My name is Honenuki Shikotsu."

The blonde man waved at me. "Hello," he said with a small Russian accent. "I am Sokolov Kyousan."

The woman with the ponytail smiled at me. "Hello, Midoriya. My name is Kaizen Futaba. It's nice to meet you."

Finally, the white-haired man got up and shook my hand with an apologetic grin. "And I'm the reason you're in this whole mess, sorry. Shigaraki Ichigo." I gasped. Come to think of it, he looked a bit like that hand guy, Shigaraki Tomura, if he wasn't so... crusty. He winced. "Yeah, like that hand kid you fought. I think he might be my nephew, but I kinda don't like the idea of my brother procreating. He wasn't a very good brother and I doubt he'd make a great father either. You can call me Ichigo, by the way. I understand if you wouldn't want to call me Shigaraki."

"Um... So if you're all here then where's All Might?" I asked.

"Oh, he's in the closet," Shimura said.

"I knew it!" I said.

"Oh no, I meant that closet," she said, pointing to a literal broom closet in one corner of the room. Why was that even there? "Toshinori's openly bi, or at least he was in school."

"Oh, so did you know him when he was in school?" I asked. "Or I guess you would know anyway if you were in his head too..."

She nodded. "I did end up in his head eventually, but I was his teacher at Yuuei."

"Wait, why is he in the broom closet? I asked.

"See, the thing about that is..." Daigoro said. "Maybe it's best if you see for yourself."

I shrugged and walked over to the closet door. I could see something under the crack, but it didn't look like a pair of human feet... I opened the door, revealing a hazy yellow silhouette that was roughly All Might-shaped, but didn't look like an actual person. He didn't react to me opening the door. "Oh," I said.

"Yeah, he kinda creeped us out after a while, so we just stuck him in the closet," Ichigo said.

I waved my hand in front of his face. He didn't react at all... "Is he... conscious?"

"We don't think so, or at least we hope not," Honenuki said.

"We don't remember our times as that strange half-shadow, but at the same time most of ours were short," Hikiishi informed me. "At the very least, he doesn't react to anything and won't until the real Toshinori dies."

"I see," I said. That was kind of disturbing... "So are your real souls in here? Is that how it works?"

Sokolov shrugged. "It's best if you don't think think about it, existentially."

"Okay," I said, closing the door. "Would it be possible to get another chair for me?" I asked. "Actually how did you get those chairs?" I turned around to see that there was an extra chair right next to Ichigo. "Right, mindscape." Ichigo patted the empty chair.

I sat down as Ichigo shuffled his cards really fancily. I didn't even know you could do some of those those things to shuffle a deck of cards.

Or it was just mindscape logic...

"So do you wanna play too, Midoriya?" Ichigo asked me.

I nodded. "Yeah, thanks." When he dealt my cards I almost picked them up, but remembered the whole thing with Hikiishi and stopped myself.

"Five-card Mao is now in session!" Ichigo said as he flipped the top card of the deck over, the two of hearts. "I figured we'd do this in the order of what bearer we were, and we could say a bit about ourselves to Midoriya. I'll start." He placed the eight of hearts down on top of the first card. "I was the first bearer. Our enemy, All For One, is.. was my brother. He kinda snapped when our father killed our mother, which to be fair was pretty dang traumatic, but that doesn't really make anything he did cool. We had a few arguments, he locked me in a room for months, then he tried to control me by giving me a powerful Quirk. Still don't get what his plan was there, even with the chance of brain damage. Plus I mean even then we already knew that Quirks could be genetic, so he should've figured I could've been even a little bit more compatible with his Quirk than some random schmuck, so-"

"You're rambling again, Ichigo," Kaizen interrupted him.

"Right. Thanks, Futaba-chan," he said. I guess they knew each other. "So yeah, I used the Quirk he gave me to escape him and join what may have been a precursor to those pro hero organization things, though obviously without the overt government support. Speaking of, I think that's when you come in, Futaba-chan."

Kaizen nodded. She put down the eight of diamonds before speaking. "I was Ichigo's sidekick. He took me under his wing after he couldn't dissuade me from being a hero and showed me ways to use my Quirk that I would have never thought of. When he was on his deathbed I promised to continue the fight against his brother and was the first to have One For All passed to me. If I may, Midoriya, I would like to advise you to not underestimate the power of my Quirk, Mending."

Sokolov nodded. "My turn." He put down the three of spades.

Ichigo picked up the card, took a card off the top of the deck, and tossed them both to Sokolov. "Bad move. Try again."

Sokolov grunted. "What about this, then?" He put down the seven of diamonds. "My mom lost her Quirk to that bastard Hisa-"

Hikiishi threw a card at him. "Watch your language, there's a kid present."

Before Sokolov could pick up the card Ichigo swiped it up and threw it and another card at Hikiishi. "That's not a rule," he said.

Hikiishi picked the cards up, took another one from the deck, and threw all three at Ichigo. "You said can make new rules if you win."

Ichigo glared at him. "I'll give you that one, but only because I agree with the rule." He turned to Sokolov. "Continue."

Sokolov nodded. "My mom lost her Quirk, so I decided to melt the brain of the person responsible. I suppose if we're saying what our Quirks are, I should say mine's Fear. Luckily Kaizen got to me before I could get to him, and she made me her successor."

Honenuki threw his card down next. Seven of spades. "Believe it or not, but I used to be one of All For One's allies. Was born into it, actually. In fact, the Quirk you got from me, Skeletal, was a combination of my birth Quirk, Spike Growth, and a Quirk called Bone Armor. One day, though, I made the... well, not mistake, but I questioned him." He tapped his scar. "How I got this. Kyousan saved my as- life and I didn't really have anywhere else to go, so he basically adopted me."

Banjo slammed down the jack of spades. He shrugged. "Honestly I became a hero because I was bored and liked using Blackwhip. Don't know what Honenuki saw in me, but to be fair he was dying and the other guy was an even bigger jerk. Not really much to say."

Hikiishi looked at his cards for a bit. "I was always good at using my Quirk, Magnetize. I was heavily encouraged to become a hero, so I went with it." He put down the jack of diamonds. "I suppose Banjo saw promise in me when we worked together, because he gave me One For All."

Shimura played the queen of diamonds. "I also became a pro hero because of my Quirk, Float. Well, I really did want to help people too, but having a Quirk that let me fly played a factor in my becoming a hero too. I only ever met Hikiishi a few times before I... well, when he gave me One For all he was about to die. I became a teacher after that, hoping that maybe my successor would be spared the traumatic circumstances of my getting One For All." She laughed wryly. "I'm honestly not too sure I was able to do that for Toshinori..."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Hikiishi muttered.

"I don't blame you," Shimura assured him. "Now it's your turn Midoriya."

"Okay," I said. I looked at my cards. If I understood the rules right, the only card I had that would work was the queen of hearts, so I placed it on Shimura's card. "My name is Midoriya Izuku, as you know. I think the Quirk I was born with was actually Singularity, but it's really weird and didn't even show any sign of being there until a few months ago, when I got The Gamer. I know I'm not very experienced, but I hope to make you all proud."

Banjo grinned at me. "You're doin' great already, kid!" he shouted.

"Yes, I'm proud to call you my successor," Ichigo added with a grin.

The rest of the former bearers echoed the sentiment. I laughed and rubbed at my suddenly wet eyes. "Thank you."

xoxoxo

A/N: Sorry about dumping a bunch of names on you at once, bit that was kinda the only way I though of for how this could go down...

Also sorry for the kinda long wait. I had writers' block for a bit with the OFA scene and then had an awesome idea for the card game that unfortunately involved reading a lot about the minor tarot arcana (I know it was a minor detail, but I thought it was really cool and I just kinda go wild for tarot motifs okay). By the way if anyone's looking things up, remember that most playing cards are the same rightside-up as upside-down so it could be either upright or reversed ;3. Plus I had a lot more irons in the fire that I had to tend to.

Elemental list: Midoriya: Halitus, Dune, Rayne, Blaise, Juniper, Mifuyu, Raimon, Iggy, Sonia, and Claude Bakugou: Pyra and Leaf Tokoyami: Corvo Uraraka: Nebula and Ion Hagakure: Lucy Tsu: Bubbles Aizawa: Charlie and Cassiopeia All Might: Seth O'Scope

#fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #the gamer #The Gamer Hero Deku #Gamer Hero Deku #GHD CH27

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